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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131956">The Wolf Of Wall Street</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailmary_yramliah/pseuds/hailmary_yramliah'>hailmary_yramliah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drugs, F/M, Money, Sex, hookers, stockbroker!Bucky barnes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailmary_yramliah/pseuds/hailmary_yramliah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, a twisted Robin Hood, founded his own firm—Stratton Oakmont—with his trusted lieutenant, Steve Rogers. Barnes makes a huge fortune by defrauding wealthy investors out of millions but everything changes when he meets you; a young woman trying to make it in the big city of New York.</p><p>How many times will Bucky fuck up until he realizes he’ll need to change if he wants to win back the woman he married?</p><p>Warnings: This story takes place in the 1980/90s (like the film) in New York. Mentions of sex, drug use, strong language, etc. Adhere to the warnings and just like the film, it’s rated R for Restricted; must be 17+ or DNI with the story. Also, I do not own any of the characters or plot for The Wolf of Wall Street. All credits are to Martin Scorsese and everyone else that worked on the film.</p><p>Updates every Monday and Friday! (This series is complete)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The world of investing can be a jungle. Bulls. Bears. Danger at every turn. That's why at Stratton Oakmont, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> pride ourselves on being the best.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But before we get into that, if you want to learn about Bucky’s story before he got his firm, you’ll have to back up the story way back to the beginning of his stock lifestyle. Bucky was a former member of a middle-class family, raised by two accountants, in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, New York.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since he was a young boy, he was always interested in the business world. There were many times that he could recall where he’ll do anything to get his pockets full of money; like how at seven years old he was posing by his lemonade stand, or the time he had a styrofoam cooler at the beach selling popsicles in the baking sun, or even as he holds an Amway sales brochure at eighteen years old.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But just eight more years after that, he made 49 million dollars as the head of his own brokerage firm which really pissed him off because it was three shy of a million a week.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>Not to mention, Bucky’s really into hookers, money, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>drugs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lots of it and in no particular order.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>May ‘95</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorted up his second line of coke on his desk with a rolled-up $100 dollar bill in between his fingers before looking up at Steve with a shit-faced grin. “Enough of this shit'll make you invincible, able to conquer the world, and eviscerate your enemies.” He proclaimed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking it was about the cocaine, Steve vehemently nodded in agreement but Bucky wagged a finger at him. “I'm not talking about this. I'm talking about this,” Bucky unfurled the bill with a snap, crumpled it, and threw it at his friend playfully. “Money is the oxygen of capitalism and I wanna breathe more than any other human being alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve took the cocaine-stained bill and sniffed at it, getting the remnants even if it wasn’t enough to give him a full-on high. “Of course,” He began, although the small dose of cocaine apparently worked in his mind to respond smarter and get on the same page. “Money doesn't just buy you a better life. It’s better food, better cars, better </span>
  <em>
    <span>pussy</span>
  </em>
  <span>—It also makes you a better person. You can give generously to the church of your choice or the political party. You can save the fuckin’ spotted owl with money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly, Rogers. Exactly!” Bucky affirmed as he clasped his hands together. He kicked his feet up from his desk, walked around to pat Steve on the shoulders proudly with the Cartier watch gleaming from underneath his suit. “But most of all, in any country in the world, money can buy you love. Fuck the Beatles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>October ‘87</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beginning of where it all started was not how Bucky expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are lower than fuckin' pond scum.” Nick Fury berated a young Bucky as he entered the Wall Street building. To add to the intimidation that he picked up on the man, he had on an eye-patch which made him more badass than he already seemed. He immediately started guiding Bucky to the floor where brokers worked their magic and upon entering the bland, beige-colored room, he noticed immediately a large number of computers, telephones, and people that were at their small desks. Many were male with short-sleeved shirts and reading the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wall Street Journal</span>
  </em>
  <span> newspapers but in a three-to-one ratio was a female minding her business and filing her nails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Like an eager puppy, Bucky followed Fury around until he was standing in front of an empty desk, </span><em><span>his</span></em> <em><span>own</span></em> <em><span>desk</span></em><span>. Fury turned around to look at Bucky and caught his staring. “You got a problem with that-” He paused, peering closer at the name tag. “James?”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope. No problem at all.” Bucky replied, not wanting to piss off Fury more than he was now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was he always like this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. Your job is a connector, which means you'll be dialing the phone over 500 times a day, trying to ‘connect' me with business owners. And till you pass your Series 7, that's all you'll be doing. Sit,” He explained before prompting Bucky to take a seat in the cheap swivel chair. Bucky did as asked and noticed his desk was right beside the crabby man. “Just so you know, last year I made over 300k and the other guy you'll be working for made a million.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes widened and he let out a breathless gasp of shock. “A million dollars?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I could only imagine what a douchebag that guy must be.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He then thought, keeping it to himself but wondering who the guy was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Bucky was startled when he felt a manicured hand land on his shoulder. He turned around to see an older man with an odd beard design, a fancy complimentary suit, and sunglasses—despite being indoors. “James? Tony Stark,” The man introduced, whipping off his sunglasses. He then looked over at Fury with a smirk and tucked them away in the suit pocket. “I see you met Nick already. One of the smartest guys in the office,” He complimented, watching Fury’s smile appear before messing with him. “Who's ever sucked a dog's cock out of loneliness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fury’s smile dropped to a frown quicker than stocks on a bad day. He said nothing, grabbed a stack of 3x5 notecards, and slammed them onto Bucky’s desk. “Smile and dial. And don't pick your fuckin’ head up till one.” Fury turned away and Tony couldn’t help but let out a wheeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't mind Nick, he’s been a real </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fury</span>
  </em>
  <span> ever since he lost the eye. Besides, I'm a senior broker here, he's a worthless piker. I heard you pitched a stock at your job interview.” Tony mentioned, making a statement rather than asking a question in his last sentence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Had to do something to stand out.” Bucky simply replied with a small shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I fuckin' love that! Let's grab lunch later. Windows good with you?” Tony asked eagerly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great. Yeah.” Bucky curtly nodded in accepting the invitation. Tony gave him a wink, then proceeded to look back at the clock hanging under the giant electronic stock ticker encircling the room—9:30 a.m.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s fuck!” Tony announced loud and proud, racing back to his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ring!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Absolute pandemonium at the bell signal indicated the opening of the stock market. Feet flew off desks; brokers and their connectors dial phones like madmen (and women). Bucky was mesmerized at what he saw and he took in the uproar of the maddening room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miniscribe's a fuckin' steal! $38 bucks a share!” One stockbroker yelled to another, almost sounding like it was a foreign language of money they were speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony had returned to his desk and was talking into his headset. “Your broker in West Virginia? What are you buying, a coal mine? It's the 80s, the game is high-tech.” He rolled his eyes at whoever he spoke to while loosening his red tie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuckface! I got 50,000 July 50s!” Another broker had spoken with pride to his buddy beside him, wrapping an arm around his neck and giving a noogie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this what money sounds like? Visit a trading floor on Wall Street. You hear ‘Fuck this, shit that’, ‘Cock’, ‘Cunt’, ‘Asshole’. I couldn't believe how these guys talked to each other</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fury noticed Bucky sitting and staring there, frozen to everything happening around him. He covered his mouthpiece and kicked the desk violently. “Dial the cocksucking phone!” He snapped out of it and instantly dialed up the phone. He was hooked within seconds. It was like mainlining adrenaline to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” He heard a voice yell out. Just as Bucky waited for someone to answer, he watched how Tony slammed the phone back into the receiver joyfully and scrawled out a buy ticket. He placed the ticket into a glass cylinder which he slips into a plastic pneumatic tube and is whooshed into the ceiling. This wasn’t going to be that bad for Bucky, in fact, he thinks he can have his fun getting rich like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky and Tony were at Windows on the World; the lunchtime power spot with panoramic views of the city. At a corner table, Bucky was paranoid as he took a look around while Tony did a bump of coke from his little coke spoon. None of the other diners seem to notice or care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got enough for one more? Tootski?” Tony questioned while offering the small spoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shook his head at the offer and replied. “No. Thanks though.” Tony mindlessly shrugged and slipped the vial into his pocket as Hector, the tuxedoed Maitre'D, approached the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Hanna, what can I bring for you on this glorious afternoon?” Tony surreptitiously palmed Hector a $100 dollar bill; Bucky noticed but didn't speak up on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here's the game plan, Hector. Bring us two Absolut Martinis straight up. Precisely seven and a half minutes after you deliver those you'll bring two more, then two more every five minutes until one of us passes out.” He commanded straightforwardly. Bucky wasn’t sure whether or not the broker was being serious or not but he’ll surely find out sooner or later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An excellent strategy, sir.” Hector obliged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky then spoke up this time, not in the mood for alcohol at this time of day. “Actually, I'm good with 7-Up.” He might as well have farted at the table by how both men looked at him. However, Tony let him off the hook with this one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First day on Wall Street, Hector. Give him time,” Tony explained briefly with a smirk, allowing him the time to understand. Hector then handed both men the menus which they graciously accepted before heading off to fetch the drinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can get high during the day and still function?” Bucky suddenly asked, playing cautiously with his words and hiding behind his menu. Once Tony did speak, he peeked from behind the flimsy laminated paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“High is the only way to do this fuckin’ job. The guy who coined the term ‘three-martini lunch’ was a woman. Cocaine and hookers, my friend are the keys to success.” Tony answered in a cool tone. Bucky let out a smile, not sure if Tony was kidding or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the silence got thick, Bucky decided to speak up even though Tony’s attention was on reading the local newspaper. “I gotta say, I'm really excited about being part of your team. I wanna do all I can for our clients and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony cut him off by reading aloud an ad for their company. “‘Here at L.F. Rothschild, our clients aren't just important, they're family.’ Just as long as we get our taste first. Remember something, James, your top priority in this job: make us money. If the clients get rich along the way, bully for them. Got a girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, sir.” Tony scrunched his nose at the comment. Yet, he goes down to business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, the first rule of Wall Street,” Tony held up a finger. “Nobody—and I don't care if you're Warren Buffet or Jimmy Buffet—nobody knows if a stock's going up, down or fuckin' sideways, least of all stock brokers.” The finger had followed with his words to emphasize them; going up, down, wagging sideways, and then between the two men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony continued. “But we have to pretend we know. Make sure you stay relaxed. Nobody wants to buy something from someone who sounds like they haven't gotten laid in a month. Take breaks when you feel stressed, jerk off if you can. You like jerking off, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When did this get personal?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Well... sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The senior broker nodded with approval. “Good. Jerking off is key. And I highly recommend cocaine, which will make them fingers dial faster, which is good for me. Churn ‘em and burn ‘em, baby.” Soon after, a busboy stopped by with a fresh napkin for Tony, who thanked him. Then discreetly as possible Tony removed a fresh vial of cocaine tucked within and took a quick snort. Bucky realized that's why he palmed the Maitre'D a $100 dollar bill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next six months, Bucky had learned the ways of Wall Street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He partied weekly with Tony, brokers, and other trainees at night clubs where drinking and strippers were a given. That fall, he passed his Series 7 and was going to arrive as his first day of becoming a stockbroker, a future Master of the Universe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He entered inside L.F. Rothschild where total chaos ran inside the office like his first day. He had gotten used to it by now. Bucky dialed the phone as all around him brokers panicked, screaming into their headsets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They called it Black Monday</span>
  </em>
  <span>. By four p.m. the market was down 508 points; the biggest one-day drop since the crash of ‘29. Once 4 p.m. came around the closing bell rang throughout the room and the entire place went dead silent. Brokers looked at each other, stunned at what happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy. Fuckin'. Shit.” Tony let out breathlessly. Everybody started commiserating with one another… L.F. Rothschild, a company that had been in business since 1883, closed its doors within a month after filing for bankruptcy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within that week after being laid off, Bucky sat at the table of his dingy apartment perusing through a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time</span>
  </em>
  <span> magazine with a coffee mug in hand. He was disappointed and growing in frustration at the lack of jobs he could find for the meantime. He took a sip of the dark, hot liquid and turned over to the back of the magazine to check the ads. Maybe there will be one for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His free hand scanned the ads until he came across one: “‘Nobody Beats the Wiz’. I could be a stock boy.” He told himself but upon reading the description passed the opportunity because, in his heart, he was a stockbroker. He would be miserable if he worked at an electronic store.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Continuing to read the small ads, he finally came up to one that needed people like him: Brokers! And at this point, anything would work from the shittiest firm to the best, as long as he was still a stockbroker.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>December ‘87</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wearing the best suit Bucky could afford, he emerged from his ‘85 Datsun. He looked around confused in the strip mall he stood in (which his map directed him to) before heading towards an unmarked storefront. Upon entering inside, it was like an antithesis of L.F. Rothschild: cheap furniture and a dozen misfit ‘brokers’ giving loud, obnoxious sales pitches on the phone. There, among the dozen, was a modern man among cave people. Slovenly, thirty-five years of age, with a walrus mustache. He looked up to see Bucky well-dressed and with a leather-bound briefcase by his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm looking for Investor’s Center?” Bucky asked the man, walking up to his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's us, hey. Dwayne.” The man greeted, going on to extend his hand to him. Bucky took it with his free hand and shook firmly before pulling away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dwayne motioned Bucky to take a seat which he did, adjusting his tie so it wasn’t crumpled. “James Barnes, I called earlier. I was a broker with Rothschild.” Nearby, a broker in ratty Keds, Toby Welch (from the horrendous brown plastic nameplate), is screaming into his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“</b>
  <span>I'm tellin' you, this stock is goin' up!... Cause I know, okay?!... I have inside information!” Bucky looked at him, appalled at what he's hearing. He sighed to himself before turning to Dwayne. “Where are your quotrons?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No quotrons, we sell off the pink sheets—penny stocks,” Dwayne slid Bucky a large thin book; its pages are literally pink. He explained their purpose as Bucky flipped through the pages hesitantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Companies that don’t have enough capital to be listed on NASDAQ, their shares trade here,” Dwayne pointed to the book. “Like these guys, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aerotyne</span>
  </em>
  <span>? They make radar detectors out of a garage in Dubuque.” Bucky imagined that for a moment. A small garage, crumbling, and with a small poorly painted sign hanging from the broken garage door. If only he knew he wasn’t far from his imagination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Six cents a share? Who buys this crap?” Bucky almost wanted to laugh. It couldn’t be rich investors… they’d lose serious money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schmucks mostly. Mailmen, plumbers, people thinking they can get rich quick. They answer our ads: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Popular Mechanics</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hustler</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning back in his chair, he pointed at the pink slips. “The spread on these is huge.” He commented on his observation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So’s your commission, that’s the point. Blue chips stocks you get what? One percent? Pink sheets are fifty.” Bucky’s jaw nearly dropped at what he heard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fifty-fucking-percent?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To get a better understanding, Bucky needed to clarify the obvious. “Wait a second. You're telling me if I sell four thousand dollars worth of stock, my commission is two thousand bucks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dwayne nodded with a reluctant shrug added like it was no big deal. “Technically, yeah, but not even the biggest schmuck buys four thousand dollars of this shit.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe not four thousand… but we can work our way up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Later that day at Investor’s Center</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><span>As other brokers barked into phones, Bucky sat with a phone cradled in his shoulder, making notes. A few beats, then</span> <span>into the phone he goes. “Mr. Fleming, good morning, James Barnes with Investor's Center in New York City. You recently responded to one of our ads,” A few of the other brokers glanced over, eavesdropping. “The reason I'm calling is that an extremely exciting investment opportunity crossed my desk today. Typically our firm recommends no more than five stocks per year: this is one of them…” A few more Brokers looked over.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Aerotyne International</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a cutting edge tech firm out of the Midwest, awaiting imminent patent approval on a new generation of radar equipment-” Now all the brokers listened in rapt attention. “-so if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aerotyne's</span>
  </em>
  <span> shares rise to only a dollar—and our research indicates they could go much, much higher—your profit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>on a mere three thousand dollar investment would be upwards of fifty thousand... That's right, you could pay off your mortgage.” Seconds ticked by; an eternity it felt like, then he started writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four thousand dollars, will that be a check or money order?” He waited for an answer from Mr. Fleming. “Thank you, sir.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew I could make two thousand! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bucky hung up, scrawling out a buy ticket. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just like that, I made two grand. The other guys are looking at me like I'd just discovered fire.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby and the other cave-brokers stared at him. “How'd you fuckin' do that?” Toby inquired in surprise, an eyebrow lifted in Bucky’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This was only just the beginning</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>February ‘88</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another day at work, Bucky sat at his desk in mid-pitch, completely focused on the task at hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's a rock-solid company, sir, it's the next </span>
  <em>
    <span>Microsoft</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Six thousand? Terrific,” As Bucky continued talking, wrapping up the sale… “Though, I knew I was selling garbage, within twelve weeks I was making a fortune.” He smiled before writing on the buy ticket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And as a wise man once told me, my only responsibility was to put meat on the table.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>June ‘88</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky parked his 1988 Jaguar outside Kacandes diner to get a quick bite to eat. As usual, he was in his business suit, seated in a booth, and reading the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wall Street Journal</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a waitress served the food. Then, approaching him from the take-out counter was a tall, blond, twenty-five-year-old man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's your Jag in the lot?” He asked curiously, pointing out the window to the bright yellow car that was Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky answered bluntly, not once looking up at the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice ride. Steve Rogers (Captain America).” The man introduced himself, beaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James Barnes.” He now looked up at Steve and didn’t expect to see a guy just as young as him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I've seen it around. We live in the same building. Twelfth floor?” Steve questioned. Bucky nodded slowly. “What do you do, James?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, in a blunt tone, Bucky answered. He had hoped Steve would take the hint and leave him be. “Stockbroker.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kids furniture, me and my brother-in-law. Making any money?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seventy grand last month.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve swore he could have fainted at hearing the number. “Get the fuck out. You made seventy grand in one month?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seventy-two actually.” Bucky reiterated. He then went to take a sip of his coffee. Steve studied him, wasn’t sure if he's full of shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what. You show me a pay stub with $72,000 dollars on it, I'm quitting my job right now and coming to work with you.” Steve slammed an open palm on the table, dedicating his seriousness to the cause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky silently takes the paystub out of his briefcase and hands it to Steve who opened it like it was a birthday gift. Sure enough, it's north of 72K.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.” Steve let out anxiously, the color in his face draining as it turned flushed. Within minutes of Bucky finishing his breakfast, the two stepped outside to a phone booth just located outside the diner. Bucky watched as Steve entered the digits and waited for the call to his employer to go through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And he did quit his job, which I thought was a little weird. I mean I had just met this fucking guy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few beats, then into the phone Steve started off diligently. “Hey Pauline, it's Steve... yeah,” Steve paused, his act dropping and voice becoming serious and to the point. “Listen, I quit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky studied Steve as he continued his conversation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There were other things about him too, like his phosphorescent white teeth, bad boy (yet good too) charms, and the fact that he married his dead first lover’s niece? A complicated story.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Later that day</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky and Steve got high at the back of the bar they were at. Steve held a flame under the crack pipe.</span>
  <em>
    <span> The weird thing was when he'd do some crack, his face would contort into this bizarre, frozen mask, like the Phantom of the Opera. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To emphasize the example, Steve did a hit of crack; his jaw twitched, then his facial muscles contorted, locking up like a stroke victim. After a few seconds, he handed the pipe to Bucky as if nothing happened. “Now you take a hit!” He exclaimed like an excited child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He had it between his fingers, took a deep hit, held it in his throat, then spilled the smoke from his open mouth as it evaporated into the calm air. He could feel its effect immediately conquer his system. It wasn’t even five minutes before he got high.</span><b> “</b><span>Oh my god, I fuckin' love you!” Bucky laughed loudly and sincerely with his mood changing dramatically. With his mind boggled, he carelessly grabbed Steve’s face and pecked at the cheek, lovingly.</span> <em><span>I knew I had to make him my partner.</span></em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>September ‘88</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turns out that it was a great decision. Steve was quick to transition into the penny stock business quickly and had worked in Investor’s Center for a while before agreeing with Bucky to open up their own firm. After all, they gained experience and Bucky would be the head of the operation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky and Steve pulled up to a defunct auto body shop, which had a ‘For Lease’ sign hanging in the dirtied window. Within a month they started their own firm out of an abandoned shop together but would be in need of more employees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which was perfect because he knew who to contact. The only downside was that they had no experience like he had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A month later in addition to Steve, Bucky also recruited his other friends: Sam Wilson (Falcon), Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), Scott Lang (Antman), and Thor Odinson (Thor), who were at the time middling pot dealers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again at Kacandes Diner, a waitress served the group cheeseburgers and baskets of fries—a treat by Bucky—while he was in the middle of his conversation to get them to join his firm. “-see everyone wants to get rich, so you're already halfway there by the time the call starts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was the first to speak while everyone grabbed the burgers. “I sold weed once to this Amish guy. Had one of those beards with no mustache?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So?” Natasha questioned, wanting to roll her eyes but opting to use her energy to bite into the food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He only wanted to make furniture.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's that got to do with anything?” Sam then questioned, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s fries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He just said everyone wants to get rich.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natasha looked over to Bucky, an eyebrow raised with uncertainty. “That's true, you did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buddhists too, they don't give a shit about money either.” Scott laughed, more so to himself even though it wasn’t funny. Scott was weird like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Man I could sell weed to anybody, get a convent full of nuns fuckin' wasted,” Sam grunted, but with a smirk that could easily be distinguished without directly being looked at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thor had been actively listening but not once participated in the conversation. Thor, the guy Bucky really wanted, took a pass since he'd become the Quaalude king of Asgard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They were absolute morons, my friends, but like I always said: Give me them young, hungry, and stupid and in no time I'll make them rich.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>August ‘89</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky looked around his firm, Stratton Oakmont, with brows furrowed as the wheels in his mind were turning. He looked at all his employees slowly at their desks, making calls but clearly inexperienced from the way they spoke and their presentation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First, it was Natasha who sat on the edge of her desk, twirling a short strand of red hair around her red manicured finger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I mean what person of any substance would trust this bunch of jerk-offs? Like the bimbo, Natasha Romanoff.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then a guy he used to work with.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Toby Welch. I mean, look at this fucking Cro-Magnon, he couldn't even think without moving his lips.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott Lang.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Or the Antman. Nothing to say there about this guy, it was pretty obvious about this guy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the list goes on! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam Wilson even, the depraved man, who once wore fairy wings and we’d never let the situation down (he claims they’re bird wings but we all know it’s a lie).</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or Bruce Banner, who I called poindexter because well—it’s pretty obvious. This guy was socially inept and studious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>March ‘90</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky stood before a large dry erase board. It was late to the point of pitch-black darkness outside but all the brokers had settled into folding chairs around him with their ears opened and ready to listen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But what if they didn't sound like jerk-offs? What if I took this bunch of nincompoops and molded them in my own image? I reinvented the company, gave it a new image, a new name. Something patrician, blue-blooded, something that reeked of tradition and anti-semi… we won’t go there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen and lady, welcome to Stratton Oakmont,” Bucky began with a bounce of energy. “The clients we've gone after in the past—they're done. We will now target exclusively the wealthiest one percent of Americans. The methods we've used? Over. Loud, obnoxious sales hype is worthless with these people.” He could see the faces of his friends lit up, nodding dumbly in agreement with his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continued on, speaking like a true politician with how outspoken he was. “In military terms, it's like carpet-bombing—noisy, menacing and only marginally effective. As Stratton brokers, you will be laser-guided; smart-bombs aimed at high-priority targets. You will establish an initial relationship with your clients selling only blue-chip stocks—then and only then will you attempt to sell the pink sheets, where the real money is. Now the key to every sale is this-” Bucky turned to the board and began to write: URGENCY, in all capital letters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He proceeded to look back, determination flowing through his veins. “No one buys stock unless he thinks it's going up and going up now. You must convince your client to buy before the takeover happens. Before the lawsuit is settled. Before the patent is granted. If he says ‘I'll think about it and call you back’, it's over, you're dead! No one calls back! So you have to create urgency—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“—and once Kodak settles the lawsuit, institutions will be permitted to buy their shares in large blocks again. And when that happens, which is any day now, what do you think will happen to the price of Kodak stock?” Another day. With the Stratton Oakmont signage visible in the background, Bucky is on speakerphone with a potential client, the other brokers listening in to continue learning from Bucky and what he should expect from them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It'll go up?” The client asked curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a game show host, Bucky acted like the client was correct, which they were. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Exactly. Which is why you should pick up 5,000 shares today, a $200,000 dollar investment.” Just then, Bucky covered the mouthpiece and pointed to the whiteboard from last night where everyone looked back. They were in step two: lower your voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky uncovered it and heard the client talking. As they finished, his voice came through very low and neutral but relished in a false sense of security for the client to believe. “Believe me, sir, you will not be sorry.” He wasn’t anxious, in fact, energized but it could be countered by how Bucky ran his fingers through his soft brunette hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Flashback to last night, the night everything will change for the better</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you wait. It’s your third step. Whoever speaks first loses. At this point, where are we in the sale?” Bucky’s chin pointed at the man in front of him. “Sam?” Sam’s arms crossed over his chest while shifting in his seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About to close?” He asked, completely unsure of himself but doting on confidence that he was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky threw up his marker, flying backwards until it hit somewhere on the floor. “No, you headless chicken douchebag! We're at the beginning of the beginning! This is where the sale starts. You, as a salesman, are almost hoping he says no so you can finally do your fuckin' job!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>End of Flashback</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky sits by the phone, waiting for a response. “I don't know, I don't think so.” The client spoke, clearly unsure of himself. Bucky smirked, holding up four fingers to indicate this was their fourth and final step now. He muted the caller for a bit, knowing that he would consult his partner about the decision.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He doesn't know, he needs to think, he's gotta ask his wife! The fact is it doesn't matter what the fuck he says! If he's already agreed that the stock's going up, then the only real objection he has at this point is he doesn't trust you! And he shouldn't trust you, you're a fuckin' salesman! So what do you say?” The question was rhetorical. Not waiting for an answer, he unmuted and held the phone close to his face again with everyone paying close attention once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me ask you this, sir—have I been your broker for the past three to four years and made you money on a consistent basis? You probably wouldn't say you need to think about it, you'd probably say ‘pick me up three or four thousand shares’, am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A month after that</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The place was crowded; now twenty brokers made up the sales force. Sam, or Falcon to his trusted clients, pitched stocks over the phone. “Wait a second. You mean to tell me if I put you in Union Carbide at seven and took you out at thirty-two...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>A month after that month</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even more crowded; with thirty brokers. Natasha spoke confidently to her client.</span>
  <b> “</b>
  <span>If I put you in Texas Instruments at eleven and took you out at forty-seven...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sometime in November ‘90</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Months and months passed by until Bucky had enough money and brokers to open his new office; a real brokerage firm. The bullpen is large, with seventy-five brokers at polished maple desks, sitting before computers, and talking into headsets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So the problem is that I don't have the luxury of a track record. Sir, let me reintroduce myself to you. My name is Steve Rogers-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce Banner (Hulk)-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam Wilson (Falcon)-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter Quill (Star-Lord) from Stratton Oakmont in New York City-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-and I plan on being the top broker in my firm this year.” Toby Welch had firmly believed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The office was bustling with voices talking over one another. Each and every broker was invested in getting on the client’s good side and to sell the most amount of stocks possible. Scott had sold 300 shares, Quill was 1,200 shares, and Bucky sold a whopping 5,000 shares to the client.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The downside is minimal and the upside is a long-term relationship with a broker on Wall Street who will consistently make you money,” Natasha assured her client, speaking seductively to entice them, as she should. “Your only regret will be that we, Stratton Oakmont, didn't call you six months ago.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>April ‘91</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The time reached 4 p.m. and still, the place went nuts as Bucky emerged from his office holding up a spreadsheet. He was about to address the gross commission to the crowd of 100 brokers, which now included a dozen women in the workforce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the help of Natasha and Sam, Bucky got up on one of his broker’s desks (who didn’t mind) and called out everyone’s attention. “Everybody have a good week?” Applause and hollers broke out from the men and women.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'd like to read you something,” Bucky read from the spreadsheet before looking up to see a happy audience. “Month-end, March 1991! $28.7 million dollars in gross commissions—all in Stratton issues. Not bad for penny stocks, huh boys? Not bad for dumpin' penny stocks.” The place went wild with another round of applause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And to celebrate with a weekly act of debauchery, I have offered our lovely sales assistant, Carol Danvers, ten thousand dollars to have her hair cut short!” Bucky motioned to her sitting on a chair as she waved. Pretty, young, and happy. Behind her, Bruce used scissors to cut off her blonde ponytail. The place went nuts when they saw him holding it up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“FYI, Carol tells me she's using the money for breast implants! Is this a great company or what?!” The crowd’s screaming with excitement like it’s a fraternity. Bucky signaled across the bullpen to Steve. The opening strains of </span><em><span>Stars &amp; Stripes Forever</span></em><span> played as he opened the door to a college marching band</span> <span>dressed in nothing more than underwear and hats. The music continued as somersaulting gymnasts and baton-twirlers brought up the rear, marching through the bullpen to cheers.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the kitchen, two dozen tuxedo-clad waiters emerged carrying trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The music continued as two dozen strippers bolted in, gyrating among the brokers. Bucky surveyed the insanity with delight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Word spread throughout Wall Street</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was becoming a legend. Forbes Magazine even called to do a profile on me…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That conniving little twat!” Bucky read aloud, appalled as he quotes the writer’s words. “‘The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wolf</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Wall Street’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside Bucky’s office, Steve tried taking a sip of his whiskey to hold in his laughter at the name he had given the female reporter but immediately spat it out on the office carpet because he couldn’t contain it. However, the man didn’t seem to notice nor care. For all he knew, he could get it replaced with the snap of a finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"’James Barnes, a twisted version of Robin Hood who takes from the rich and gives to himself and his merry band of brokers’.” Bucky crumpled the newspaper in his hand, in frustration with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forbes</span>
  </em>
  <span> for tainting his precious name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, There's no such thing as bad publicity.” Steve tried to reassure, patting his wet lips with the sleeve of his shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was true. Bucky would realize it sooner than later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because later in the day, off to the side of the bullpen, Bucky noticed three dozen young men in business suits. He approached his assistant Shuri, in her twenties, dressed all in black.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hell's all this?” He demanded towards the crowd of amateurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forbes</span>
  </em>
  <span> article. They're applying for jobs.” Shuri responded, in a tone like it was obvious. They spotted Bucky, clamored, and waved their resumes in his direction. They were of all age groups ranging from high schoolers to old fathers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Barnes! Over here! Sir!” The job applicants called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turns out, Forbes had made me a superstar. Every day, dozens of money-crazed kids beat a path to my door with resumes they hadn't even bothered to spell-check. If we hired ‘em, they dropped out of college overnight and blew whatever allowance they had on a new suit from our in-house tailor. The median age of our brokerage couldn't get served in the bar down the street.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>June ‘92</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Massive. That was one word to describe the South Hampton Beach House Bucky and his people were partying in. Included was an Olympic-size pool overlooking the white sanded-beaches (which to be honest to God, made no sense! But rich people will take both since they had the money to afford it). Dozens of luxury cars parked outside, owned by rich stockbrokers, but the real sight was on the balcony: Bucky mid-speech, in a bathing suit, and addressing the Strattonites below him with his microphone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-so enjoy yourselves, you all deserve a celebration. Except for Wanda, she's lazy and she steals,” Wanda had looked up and given the middle finger playfully. Bucky blew a kiss in a joking manner as well. “But everybody, keep this in mind. As my friend Steve Rogers says, ‘If you wanna party with the boys, you gotta wake up with the men.’ Monday morning I want you all looking razor-sharp. ‘Cause Stratton's got a few things on the horizon, things that are gonna take it right up into the fuckin' stratosphere!” The crowd went nuts. One broker lets loose a wolf-howl, and the crowd toasted Bucky, chanting his name like they were summoning him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bu-cky! Bu-cky!! Bu-cky!” He grinned and looked among his </span>
  <em>
    <span>followers</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a benevolent dictator. He had come to terms that maybe he was like a wolf—a big, mean one that won’t stop until he got what he wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get this fuckin’ party started, cocksuckers!” He then roared aloud, causing everyone to join in. Gorgeous people danced, drank, and snorted coke. Upstairs, Bucky retreated to playing whiskey pong in private—only close friends of his allowed—which involved Scott, Steve, Natasha, Toby, Sam, and Bruce, assigning ludes with every pocketed cup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck Merrill Lynch. Fuck them. Why should they be taking all our fuckin’ money? We become the underwriters.” Bucky sighed as he tossed a ping pong ball into the opponent’s cup, scoring. Scott shook his head, took the pill, and swallowed the contents from the cup to take it down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like an investment bank,” Natasha commented, crossing her arms while leaning against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Bucky agreed, leaning over the pool table that they were playing on and pounding lightly on the green felt underneath his palms, the ludes and liquid bouncing lightly in their place. “We do our own IPO's and we will print money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was in excitement, the ludes getting to him by the way he made an odd metaphor. “Eat like a bird, shit like an elephant, baby!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They can take their Harvard asses under our desks and suck our cocks,” Bucky looked over to Bruce. “How soon can you get the paperwork filed?” He asked the nerd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stoned</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Can't we talk about this Monday?” He groaned in response, rubbing at his temples to clear his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's a simple fuckin' question,” Bucky replied deliberately. Just then, Sam had scored making Bucky take one of the pills. He popped them in like they were M&amp;M’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Except I'm looking at three of you right now.” Bruce proceeded to add on, suddenly rubbing at his eyes harshly to clear his mind, as if it’ll work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Natasha, the soberest out of everyone in the room, had contributed her own idea. “We've got </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arncliffe National</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they're looking to go public, we've got-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve cuts her off, very drugged, and casted off to the seat behind Bucky where he could rest for a moment. “Oh, oh, T’Cha... lla...” He tried to say but his mind wasn’t wired with his mouth at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Toby snickered. “Come on, Captain America’s asshole, spit it out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...T’Challa... U-U-Udaku…” Steve mumbled out. He gesticulated wildly, slapping at a wine glass perched on the edge of the wall behind him, and breaking it when it fell. The guys cracked up at his actions. Steve’s practically drooling as Bucky gave a quick tutorial on ludes because clearly, they’re working on Steve right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>It’s like the scene is in slow motion with dramatic music waiting to come on. Steve had now stood up and held onto Bucky’s shoulder for support. </span><em><span>The quaalude, also referred to as lude, was first synthesized in 1951 by an Indian doctor</span></em> <em><span>as a sedative, and was prescribed to stressed housewives with sleep disorders. Pretty soon someone figured out that if you resisted the urge to sleep for fifteen minutes, you got a pretty kick-ass high from it. It didn’t take long for people to start abusing ludes, of course, and in 1982 the U.S. Government Schedule One’d them, along with the rest of the world. Which meant there was only a finite amount of these things left. No shit, you can't even buy ‘em anymore today. You people are all shit outta luck.</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vibbraanniiuumm... Vibrrrraaaannnniiiiuuuummmm.” Steve managed to hum out but it had been very heard with how incoherent his words were. However, Bucky knew he was onto something. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you remember how gold was huge in California back in the 1850s? Vibranium was the hottest metal right now, even stronger than the other known metals on earth. Well apparently, Steve Rogers knew T’Challa Udaku for a bit in high school. T’Challa Udaku was the name in mining at the moment and all of Wall Street was begging to take his company public</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My very own vice president: Steve Rogers, everyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The team wasn’t going to let this moment down. Bucky had gripped underneath Steve’s jaw and messed around with him, repeating his words and actions while getting his mouth to move with it. “T-Challaaaaa… T’Cha-lla…” They got a good laugh at it but was cut short by Sam hitting him on the arm to get his attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, Buck. You got to check this fuckin’ chick out. She’s innocent and pretty-” Bucky stopped him there once he heard the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent </span>
  </em>
  <span>and followed Sam to where they overlooked downstairs; there you were, walking into the beach house from the sliding doors in a ridiculously short turquoise dress and an impeccable smile on your face. You sure were innocent-looking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My nutsack's about to explode,” Bruce whined, squeezing himself through his pants to ease his hardness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone's gotta take that down,” Natasha quipped, eyes trained on your figure. “Wouldn’t mind if it were me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's no debate on who that someone should be. Everyone’s eyes locked on you while Bucky made his way downstairs with his friends trailing behind for support. You had been taking in the party, your eyes flitting to things surrounding you: art, chandeliers, crystal, anything that caught your eye. Beside you stood your date Thomas Shelby and Bucky’s employee, Hope Van Dyne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A lotta people would look at me and think: ‘golddigger, she's out to land the richest husband she can.’ But you see, I came from nothing. Like, below the poverty line. However, I don’t care about money. I’m living my best right now… it just so happens that my stockbroker boyfriend dragged me to one of these things… </span>
  </em>
  <span>You thought to yourself, wondering if these people would question your intentions with a rich crowd. It wasn’t hard to tell that you weren’t associated with these kinds of people—these </span>
  <em>
    <span>party animals</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky slowly approached Hope, you, and Thomas. “James, hey. Have you met my friend YN?” Hope asked while gesturing towards you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you…” Bucky appeared in front of you. He took your hand and shook it eagerly but didn't let go along with his voice faltering at the end. Thomas noticed and set his eyes to a glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN. YN LN.” You introduced yourself with your lips curling upward at the man. In all honesty, he was very attractive in a button-down Hawaiian shirt—showing off his muscular body—and khaki shorts, but the real icing on the cake was his face which had your heart racing tremendously. This man had to be sculpted by a Greek God by how handsome he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN…” He repeated, the name rolling off his tongue sexily which caused shivers to course down your spine. “I’m James but you can call me Bucky.” He flirted shamelessly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have an awesome house. I don't think I've ever been in a house like this.” You replied dreamily, still happening to look around at the knick-knacks and glorify in the beauty. Yet, everywhere you looked was also filled with women and men getting handsy with one another or doing something illegal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky noticed how your face was trying to maintain a smile but he could sense a slight uneasiness from the way your eyes flickered. You were clearly unsettled by the reality that you found yourself in; a white man’s dream den full of fantasies of all kinds. He tried his best to avoid you from it, avert your attention back on something else, presumably him. “You like it? I just got it. I guess it's okay. Six bedrooms, two hot-tubs, one off the master suite overlooking the water. You like to jet-ski?” You shook your head, looking down meekly before up at him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thomas seemed to have enough of Bucky’s subtle signs with an unamused expression appearing on his face. He pushed between you both with his hand extended towards Bucky to break the two of you apart. Toby lurked behind him, giving him the evil-eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Thomas spoke in his deep voice. “Thomas Shelby.” To continue displeasing your date, Bucky barely acknowledged him and was still focused on you. This time, his smile matched your own and you could start to notice his pearly whites peaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're telling me you've never jet-ski'ed in your life?!” Bucky placed a hand over his chest in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never!” You then let out a breathless laugh. It felt like you were warming up to Bucky like you both were old friends reigniting a flame. He seemed kind and confident and very persistent to get what he wants: you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y'know, we really should hit it,” Thomas interjected, wrapping an arm around your waist with a readiness to leave. “There are two other parties we're s’posed to get to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? You just got here. Stay.” Bucky reasoned with hopefulness. The moment he looked away, he looked back to see you staring at your date.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Thomas. We can spare a couple of more minutes here.” You pleaded with a bat of your eyelashes. You really were playing an innocent act and Bucky </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Listen to the pretty lady.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky smirked to himself. Thomas rolled his eyes in defeat and agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fifteen minutes,” He grunted as you threw your arms around his body in a gracious hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh sweet Jesus!” Bucky turned to the yelling to see a drunk Steve, visible cock in hand, jerking off to you. You covered your mouth in shock, also wanting to shield your eyes at what you were witnessing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?!” Sharon Rogers, Steve’s wife, yelled in horror. During the melee that followed, Sharon admonished Steve by hitting and dragging him away. Thomas took his own opportunity to remove you from the party as well, scarred that you had to see that. You weren’t even complaining because you were in just as much horror as Sharon was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The day I met YN was the day I truly became the Wolf. Every guy wanted her—so I had to have her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky watched as you left with Thomas. You shot a glance back to him and, like that, he's hooked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what he didn’t seem to notice was the Red Riding Hood fear you had for the Big Bad Wolf like him. Yet, it won’t stop him from getting to you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Just a week had passed after Bucky’s party and you had returned back to your home of New York with your boyfriend. For some reason, you saw the change in him and how protective he became… almost like it was possessive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t I just go out with Hope? She’s just inviting me to visit the company!” You fought with Thomas, clearly frustrated at how controlling he had become. Thomas shook his head in disapproval of the plans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not letting you go near that place. I don’t trust them.” You were outraged, scoffing at his words for saying that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trust them? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thomas was absolutely out of his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby! You’re one of them! How could you not trust the people you work for?” He ignored your question and walked towards the liquor cabinet to grab a drink as a way to ease his growing headache. You followed behind, throwing your hands around with exasperation. “Answer me, Thomas!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He poured his drink silently and took it down in one go without a reaction considering how strong the alcohol content was. He then turned to you without an expression but spoke in a low accusatory voice. “You want to go see him. Don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thrown back by his question, you crossed your arms and let out a frustrated sigh as he questioned your loyalty. “You’re ridiculous. You know that?” You then spun on your heel and felt like screaming. “Ever since we visited his party, you changed. Where’s my loving boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your back was still turned away from him. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said get the hell out of my apartment. We’re done! I knew you were a slut!” Thomas began to yell. You had since flinched at his words, your heart breaking upon his last sentence. Surely he didn’t mean it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You turned around slowly in shame. “Thomas-” You began, wanting to apologize but he was fuming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you still doing here! Get the fuck out!” You whimpered like a poor puppy who got kicked and quickly grabbed your purse from the couch before bolting towards the door. Just as you opened it, you could hear the impact of glass breaking from beside you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This bastard just threw glass at me!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You flinched as some of the pieces hit you but luckily none of them entered your skin. You kept running in your heels, out of Thomas’ apartment and hopefully you never have to see that monster again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you made it outside the complex, you weren’t sure where to turn but decided it would be best to visit Hope. You didn’t exactly have a place to call home due to the fact that it was shared with Thomas and even then, he paid for the entire unit</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>meaning he owned it. Not you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You took a cab and gave the direction of where you needed to go. You were on the verge of crying once it started to take off to Wall Street but as minutes passed, the tears spilled out as you came to the realization that you lost your boyfriend of one year over a stupid arguement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The building came into view and you thanked the cab driver after paying the fee. It was huge once you stood in front of it but you quickly pushed past your admiration and entered inside where many men wore business suits and carried briefcases. It didn’t take long to figure out where you had to go since the elevator buttons were labeled; Stratton Oakmont had occupied the topmost part of the building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During the ride up, you had taken your compact mirror out from your purse and carefully examined your face. Some mascara had started to run and clump but the rest of your face was presentable. If only you could visit a bathroom before meeting Hope, you should be fine. The metal doors opened and you stepped out while trying to remain calm. You just needed to fix your mascara.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once giving yourself the pep talk and successfully salvaging the rest of your makeup, you had exited the bathroom and made your way into the firm. It was loud, crowded, and smelled a lot like booze. You looked around to see if you could find Hope but she was nowhere to be seen due to everyone standing up on their desks or throwing wads of paper to one another. It was a crazy party going on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did they even have something to celebrate?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi excuse me-” You began as you walked up to one of the desks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Busy!” The man yelled, clearly not paying attention to you as he spoke into his headset. You sighed but kept trying to find one person who didn’t have their attention occupied to see if you could ask about Hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN?” You heard a voice call from behind. You turned around to see Bucky peeking his head from his office. “YN!” He exclaimed excitedly, opening the door wider as you noticed his suit. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN! Oh my god!” Hope ran up to you and hugged you tightly. “I was wondering if you got my fax!” Bucky noticed the two of you and put on a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, visiting your friend I see,” He pursed his lips into a thin-lipped smile and excused himself. “I’ll let you two be on your way.” Just as he was about to close the door, Hope had dragged you towards his office and opened it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James, I asked her to come here so I could give her a tour.” She clarified. Bucky hadn’t reached his seat when he turned around again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s nice of you, Hope. If you need anything, just let me know.” He then gave a genuine smile before making his way back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, something in you made you speak up even when you didn’t have to. “Thank you, James.” You weren’t sure if he had heard your words but once seated, he looked up to make eye contact with you, a glimmer in his eyes as they set on yours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN, I’ve already told you that you can call me Bucky.” He winked. Butterflies fluttered inside your stomach as Hope pulled you away from the office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So he broke up with you?” Hope asked disappointedly. It was already the end of her work and before then, she had introduced you to the original Stratton Oakmont brokers, including Steve, who apologized for his actions from a week ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did.” You replied with the same energy as her. The two of you were at one of her favorite, fancy, Italian restaurants and she had promised to pay for you when you told her that you couldn’t afford the items. It was embarrassing to mention your financial struggles but Hope wasn’t the one to judge. She had been in the same position as well before working at Stratton Oakmont.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you need a place to stay, I have a guest bedroom back at my place.” She offered politely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You had stopped picking at your nails to look at her with sincerity. “Thank you, Hope. I-I don’t know how to repay you.” Hope held up her hand to stop you while her other grabbed at her wine glass full of merlot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me, YN. You know I would do anything for you.” You nodded your head curtly and dug into the food that the waiter had just served. For some reason, you felt more free now that you weren’t with Thomas. Meanwhile, you were still upset that he had taken your heart and stomped all over it. Some part of you even expected that he’ll track you down and claim you back. Though, Thomas hadn’t done any of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the two of you continued your conversation on anything you could come up with, Hope had cut you off. “Oh how could I forget!” She slapped at her forehead. “YN, James wanted me to give you this.” She dug into her purse before pulling out a small, white slip of paper. Almost like it was a top secret document, she had kept her hand on it while sliding it over to you on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” You took it and opened it up to see numbers scribbled in fancy penmanship. It was Bucky’s phone number to his private line. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When did Hope get this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You wondered, not being able to recall anytime that they were together. It couldn’t have been before because he wasn’t aware of your arrival until he saw you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s hoping you’d call him. Something about wanting to get to know you,” She shrugged mindlessly before asking a nearby waiter for another wine refill. You felt your heart flutter as you tucked the sheet away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could I call him later?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course! Just let me know what he wants.” Hope winked at you, making you stuff more food into your mouth to hide your blushing face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a nice shower in the guest bathroom and changing into clothes that Hope offered, you sat by the dial phone with the paper staring back at you, taunting you to call at this time of night. It wasn’t like it was late, just, you were aware that people could be sleeping at this time. People like Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck it.” You groaned as you gave in and began to punch in the numbers. You brought it up to your ear and waited for the call to go through. The longer it kept dialing, the more thoughts and regret clouded your mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s definitely asleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why am I doing this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is really stupid. Maybe I should just hang up-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” A deep baritone voice came from the other end. You sucked in a breath, not believing that he would answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-Bucky? Hi, sorry to be calling at this time. It’s YN.” You could hear shuffling and muffled words and maybe your mind was messing with you, but a woman’s voice too? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. Your mind is just playing tricks on you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doll! No worries, how are you?” Bucky asked curiously but with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t know what was so funny but you had let out a slight laugh. Maybe it was relief at the fact that Bucky </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> intentionally give you his number. “I’m great. It was nice seeing you again and Stratton Oakmont. It’s a very busy place.” Your heart thrummed loudly from within your chest as you waited for Bucky to respond. You nervously played around with the phone cord, curling it around your fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN,” He began, getting your attention as you clutched the phone tightly. “I’ve been wanting to ask if you would go on a date with me sometime?” You were sure that your heart thrums were heard by Bucky through the phone by how loud it was in your ears, however he said nothing about it and awaited your answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I wow. I would love to, Bucky.” You rasped after a few long seconds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But what about the money? What would you even wear?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah thank goodness, doll. When I didn’t hear from you, I thought I scared you.” He joked. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. You have an address?” You ran a hand through your damp hair and looked down at your feet, shame overcoming your body that Bucky would find out all about you through one phone call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I-uh, it’s with my friend Hope, let me just ask her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hope? You live with her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Biting at your lip, you clenched your eyes tightly. “Yep,” You let out in shame. “I-I just broke up with my boyfriend and he kicked me out of his apartment.” There was a chance he wasn’t going to ask why you lived with Hope. There was also a chance that you didn’t have to give too much information about your private life to a man you just met. However, you heard Bucky let out a deep whistle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That man’s a real dickhead,” He sighed but deep within him, he felt like a winner to learn new information. “Couldn’t imagine a lady like yourself to be left heartbroken, considering how beautiful you are.” Even through the phone, he managed to make your face heat up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you’re too kind.” You whispered lamely. “Hey, it’s getting late and I need to go before Hope yells at me,” You lied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, my princess,” He whispered back. He heard the receiver click and returned the phone into its stand. At the foot of his bed was a prostitute that he didn’t care enough to know the name of. “Alright, we can continue.” He commanded, taking a sniff of cocaine from his nightstand before letting her climb on top of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what happened?” Hope questioned with curiosity as she sat at the end of the guest bed. “Give me all the details.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He asked me out on a date.” You explained as if it was the most disinteresting topic ever, when in fact, you’re trying to contain your eagerness. You just wanted to see Hope’s reaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened at your words. “Why aren’t you excited YN?! It’s Jame’s fuckin’ Barnes! You said yes, right?” She then lowered her voice for a comical effect. “Right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” You squealed, no longer holding in your feelings. It suddenly dawned on you that you forgot to give Bucky the address to Hope’s apartment. “Shoot! Hope, I forgot to give him your address so he could pick me up-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. I’ll let him know,” She replied with reassurance. You knew you could rely on Hope and once again, you were thankful for her angelic intentions to always help you out. “Now go to sleep, YN. I have to work early tomorrow.” She patted your hand before getting up and exiting the room but not before saying ‘goodnight’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You fell back onto the pillows and brought up the duvet covers to your chest with content filling the air. This was possibly the best moment of your life and suddenly, you’re thanking Thomas for breaking up with you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The next day</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hope came to the rescue as she offered you her credit card to borrow so you could buy a dress for tonight. You were hesitant at first until she unwillingly slapped you in the face and made you take the card without complaining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So that’s just what you did. You had headed to the first store you came across during your walk in New York and entered inside. Clearly everything was designer and way out of your budget. Just as you were about to walk out, you were stopped by a feminine voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” You turned around to see a salesperson hurrying up to you with bright, cherry red lipstick formed into a smile. “Sorry, I just think you’re very pretty. You sure you don’t want to take a look around first?” Feeling bad for wanting to leave just as you had come in, you gave in and started examining the dresses, except you had no idea what to wear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, could you help me? I have a date tonight and I need a dress to wear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Formal? Casual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a cocktail dress. Anything within a $400 dollar price range or less?” The salesperson looked at you like you were kidding. Her face has said it all and you were confused by it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cocktail, inside a fashion outlet, with a budget of $400 dollars? Sure. We can try and find something but the closest you’ll get is a single earring.” She said sarcastically as you rolled your eyes. She then led you on towards the back of the store where a large selection of clothes were. Mainly beautiful dresses. “Each cost about a thousand or more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at what you heard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What store am I in anyways?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It would’ve been smart if you had read the neon sign outside (or literally anywhere in the store) to indicate that you were at fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Versace</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh gosh no, I can’t afford this!” You exclaimed, ready to turn on your heel and dash out the door only if it weren’t for the salesperson to stop you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, it can’t be so out of your budget or else you wouldn’t have come in here!” This lady was not letting you go until you bought something. You sighed and finally got around to looking at the dresses until you found one that you liked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. This one.” You picked it up and held it to your body. It was all black, short, and with mesh to cover your top bust. It was perfect in all actuality in cocktail and casual aspects.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful. Whoever this guy is, he’ll never take his hands off you.” She spoke with a tease before taking the dress carefully and heading to the register. She rang it up to the amount $1,328 dollars and you painfully cringed while swiping the card.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” You muttered, attempting a smile as you take the bag and walk out. You had used more money than you intended and now couldn’t buy accessories or shoes since you didn’t want to overspend anymore of Hope’s hard earned money. So instead you walked back to the apartment and hoped that she had any heels that you could borrow (and more so, fit!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Upon walking towards the door, you frowned to see a large box in front of her door but was addressed to you—YN LN BELONGINGS scrawled out in black ink. Holy shit. Thomas had given back your stuff. You quickly opened the apartment complex and pushed the box inside with your foot before setting down the </span><em><span>Versace</span></em><span> bag on the table, grabbing a knife, and cutting open to view the contents.</span> <span>Much to your convenience was black-felt heels on top of all your other items.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” You sighed as you closed your eyes happily. It was like a sign that you were supposed to go on a date with Bucky later on. A wonderful sign indeed. You dug deeper into the box in hopes that you could find jewelry but to no luck could you find any. Though, you were still relieved you had the shoes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was already half past seven and you had told Hope everything that happened in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Versace</span>
  </em>
  <span> while she did your hair. Instead of being mad that you spent a lot of money at the designer store, she had laughed and even </span>
  <em>
    <span>encouraged</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to buy shoes next time, no matter how much you spent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful dress.” She motioned as you silently nod, admiring your reflection. You had also told her about Thomas giving back your belongings and she was proud to hear that—and not that he was bitter and got rid of any traces of you at his home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you excited for tonight, YN?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nervous.” You responded. You looked down since Hope was spraying your hair before looking back up into the bathroom mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have some jewelry for you to borrow,” She said with concentration as she continued to style your hair. You had spent the last hour putting on makeup and Hope made sure everything was precise and up to standard. She wanted everything to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a perfectionist would allow. During her finishing touches, Hope backed away at her creation with her hands up in surrender. Your hair was a classic look for women during this time and felt heavy with the added hairspray mixed in. “I’ll be back. Don’t you move a muscle.” She demanded as she pointed at you before leaving the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were smiling like an idiot as you leaned into the mirror to admire yourself. The makeup wasn’t much since you were already beautiful but Hope wanted to ‘accentuate’ the look and bring out your best features in matches with the dress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally after a good minute, she returned with a medium-sized black velvet box in hand. Stamped on the material was a medusa head and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Versace</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course. She handed you the box and allowed you to open it and you didn’t expect to see what was inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vintage Versace Medusa earrings</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…” You shook your head vigorously and shoved the earring box back. “I can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” She tutted at you. “You will.” She took both earrings out and moved your stiff hair out of the way to put them on. They were authentic gold and weighed down on your earlobes. You wanted to fight her but there was no point with someone as stubborn as Hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sexy,” She gasped while stepping back. She looked like a proud mother who was watching her daughter grow up into a woman for the first time. Her hands covered her mouth and she dabbed at her eyes to fake tears. “My daughter is all grown up.” She chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, mom.” You went along as you stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. With everything on, you really felt like a princess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What time is James picking you up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said eight.” Just on time, you heard the doorbell ring and the two of you whipped around to the noise then at each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s here!” You both screamed in unison. You inhaled and exhaled deeply as Hope kept her composure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice to know that Bucky’s punctual.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go answer the door. Then you make an entrance. Make it snazzy.” She left the bathroom and yelled ‘I’m coming!’ to the guest before swinging open the door. “James! Welcome to my abode.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was your chance. You leave the bathroom and like a model, strutted into the kitchen to meet your date. “Bucky! How are you?” You approached him. His hands were behind his back and he had gasped at your outfit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful,” He walked towards you for a closer look before placing his hands in front to display a bouquet of sweet-smelling red roses. “For you.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky’s a gentleman.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You accepted them and brought them to your nose, inhaling the fresh scent. “Bucky…” You drawled, not knowing how you could say thank you to him. “These are wonderful and you look handsome as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Hope had her head tilted as she clasped her hands together proudly, clearly approving of the two of you being together. “My boss and my best friend are together making lovey-dovey eyes. Disgusting. Fuck off both of you, I’m tired and hungry.” Her change in tone made Bucky laugh as you shifted uncomfortably. Though, this was how they joked in and out of work but you would never understand how being rude to one another will ever constitute as funny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s right. Let’s go, YN. Our reservation is soon.” He extended his elbow and you looped your arm before heading out. “Bye, Hope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you later.” You said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye!” She yelled, slamming the door closed behind you both. Just after a few seconds, she opened it again and peaked her head out as you were at the end of the hallway. “Have her home by twelve!” She yelled to Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No promises!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once outside Hope’s home, you were greeted with a limousine and chauffeur opening the door to help you inside. You would’ve been surprised to see it but it wouldn’t make any difference since you knew Bucky was rich—from his Hampton beach home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So where are we going?” You decided to ask. Despite the large seating of the car, Bucky had been pressed against you, leaving no personal space. You were intoxicated by his strong cologne that permeated the air, slightly dizzying you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sign of the Dove. It’s this nice restaurant in Manhattan.” You’ve heard of the place before, hearing about the amazing food and welcoming atmosphere but never been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To the ride there, the two of you fell into a nice tandem with conversation. It was free-flowing and casual. He flirted here and there and you did as well but never once would you term it as awkward. Just then, after you were telling a funny story about yourself had Bucky dug into his suit pocket to pull out a small vial.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want?” You laughter faltered into an uneasy one as you see him uncover the opening to unveil white power inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shook your head politely, put up a hand, and pushed it back towards him. “Oh. I don’t do drugs.” You replied with a half-smile. “You do know it’s bad for you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky makes a ‘pfft’ motion and pours some of the cocaine onto the back of his hand before bringing it up to his nostril. “Doll, it’s just a small fix. It wouldn’t hurt.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn she really is innocent. She probably couldn’t tell a hooker if she came across one. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This time, you let it pass. You weren’t a big fan of people who used drugs but with Bucky, he was a bit different. You were willing to put all your money (if you had any) on a bet like him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh look! We’re here.” Bucky pointed out the window to a well lit restaurant. The limo came to a stop and like the gentleman Bucky was tonight, he helped you out and guided you to the restaurant with his arm secured around your waist. You both headed to the top of the restaurant where it gave a beautiful view of the city in its nighttime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the Sign of the Dove, what can I start you off with, Mr. Barnes?” A waiter asked as he stood beside the reserved table for you both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any bottle of ‘53 Lafite left?” The waiter nodded and Bucky smirked. “Get us a bottle will you?” As he ordered, you looked around to embrace the romantic and elegant mood the restaurant encaptures. Beside you were other couples who were enjoying their wine and dine experience and right now, you were about to have that too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As more time passed, you both ordered, ate, and coversed. After finishing the main courses and just sipping the rest of the sweet tasting wine, Bucky treated you with some specialty cake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation had been about different places around New York that should be appreciated more. “Bay Ridge. That's near Staten Island?” He asked, cutting into the cake and bringing up the fork to your lips. You leaned in and cleaned it off before leaning back in your seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooklyn, across the Verrazano Bridge. Guinea gulch. Ever been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're Italian?” You shook your head and washed down the cake with more wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Thomas had friends who have family that live there.” You watched how Bucky reacted to his name, flaring his nostrils. The reaction made you want to laugh but you didn’t say anything and instead, flagged down a waiter nearby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could I have a straw please?” You politely inquire. The waiter nodded, heading off to fetch one as you returned back to Bucky “So I was a little surprised you gave me your number.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow. “How come?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just thought… you had a girlfriend or something.” You shrugged, voice lowering near the end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope doll. Single as a dollar.” He joked, teasing you with money humor. You smiled. The waiter brought the straw and you opened it from it’s plastic, placing it into the red wine glass. You detected Bucky’s puzzled look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I don't stain my teeth.” You informed, sipping the wine seductively through the straw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once done and leaving the restaurant, you were surprised that the limousine wasn’t what greeted you at the street curb. It was Bucky’s Ferrari. He must’ve paid his chauffeur to bring the limo and exchange it with his own car. He noticed your shock but led you inside the car. “Get used to it, sweetheart,” He smirked, entering through the driver side, starting the ignition, and speeding off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He began to head back towards Manhattan to invite you inside his home. In the meantime, you filled the silence with your voice as you looked out the window to pedestrians and buildings passing by. “My father wanted me to marry Thomas. I was forced to drop out of college, made to become his housewife for the rest of my life. It’s why I haven’t had a job. In return for marrying him, I would live in a life of luxury and no need to work.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look how that turned out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You wanted to say but decided against it because it could be interpreted wrongly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what would your dream job have been?” Bucky questioned, still driving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something in fashion like an entire line of lingerie—camisoles, bustiers, panties. If only I was going to major in business management.” You sighed aloud. Bucky glanced over, seeing your dress ride up your thighs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She wants to design panties?! Jesus fucking Christ, what a tease.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It caused him to grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not too late to get a degree. Sounds like something I might invest in, you know?” You smiled at his advice. If it was Thomas, he would only laugh at you and oppose because ‘women shouldn’t be business owners’. At least Bucky wasn’t misogynistic like him and that was a mistake you’ll never forgive yourself for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once his building was in view, Bucky pulled over outside his apartment complex. The two of you made your way upstairs and entered inside but you didn’t expect it to be so big and homey. “Welcome.” He greeted inside with outstretched arms while flipping on the light switch nearby. You slipped off your own heels and kept at your toes before adjusting to walk normally on the hardwood floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow…” It was much nicer than Thomas’ home and Hope’s unit. Everywhere around you was met with expensive paintings, vases, and top-of-the-line appliances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make yourself at home. You want tea?” You nodded and he pointed at the kitchen where you headed to make yourself some. “I’ll go start a fire.” He spoke out, going into his living room and turning on one of those fake heating logs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once coming back, you entered the living room to see Bucky sitting down on the couch while a vinyl played from nearby. He had wiped at his nose—indicating another fix—while you sat beside him and took a small sip from the steaming liquid. Bucky’s body jerked as he turned to you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, please help me. How can I fuck this girl?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wondered while watching your dainty fingers point at the air in realization to the music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t take you to be a Billy Joel fan.” You pointed out with a giggle. You then placed the cup down and brought your feet underneath your legs and butt, facing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s not a lot you know about me.” He managed to whisper seductively, your throat erupting a small whine. In the moment, he could feel his slacks grow tighter and never badly did he want to stick his dick inside you. He just hopped you weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> innocent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky… fuck me please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What! What?” He asked in confusion, coming out of a dazed state. You jumped at Bucky’s shouts, spilling some tea on your dress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I was asking if you wanted to dance.” You whined softly, setting your cup down again and patting at your breasts—where the liquid spilled and warmed your skin. You weren’t sure what had gotten into Bucky but he was acting a bit jumpy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry doll. Yeah why not?” He attempted a smile and brought you onto your feet, seeing a damp spot on the dress. “I’m sorry, did you spill tea on yourself?” He asked with slight regret in his voice. His mind was playing dangerous tricks on him and he was already bound to mess everything up if he didn’t play his cards right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not much, it’s fine though.” Bucky offered to grab towels but you shook your head and instead, brought him to a large area of the room with enough space to move around in. Your hand trailed his arm as you were in position, already swaying to some classic music that was playing. Bucky placed his own hands around your waist, moving in beat with you. His heart raced rapidly while looking into your beautiful face. He would be lying if he denied that he hasn’t thought about kissing you at this moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Many times.” You giggled, feeling a brave presence take over your body and upon biting your lip, your face connected with his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck, I’m kissing her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my god, I’m kissing him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deepening the kiss, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. You, on the other hand, had trailed your fingers along the nape of his neck and short baby hairs. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” You cursed at yourself in regret once pulling away. You had to admit, you did miss his soft lips on yours but in no right should you have kissed him without permission. You attempted to push away but he kept his arms locked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN. It’s okay.” He calmed you. Your eyes tried to look anywhere but his yet, with one hand he lifted at your chin so you could look into his icy blue eyes. He expected to say something but leaned in again to capture your lips on his. That’s when it started to get heated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You felt a dampness in your legs as Bucky grew hard in his pants. Not wanting to sever the moment, Bucky picked you up with his arms supporting your ass before bringing you into his bedroom. He put you down on the plush bed, and hovered over you before pulling away and taking off his suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait…” You let out breathlessly, starting to remove your own dress too. “I-I’m a virgin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky paused, completely stunned by those three words. You immediately regretted saying such a thing and groaned from how he looked at you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great. He’s turned off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You initially believed. Except, he stopped you in a soothing voice once he saw your shame. “Woah, baby baby. It’s okay.” He finished shedding off his blazer and loosened his tie. “We can go slow… if you still want this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I do, please.” You begged desperately. The only reason you haven’t lost your virginity yet was because your father wanted for you to wait until marriage. You were going to follow through with it but some traditions had to be broken and anyways, that was when you were with Thomas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky lightly nodded before proceeding to strip down naked as you did the same. Clothes were tossed carelessly around the room and he carefully moved towards you on the bed. Your mouth watered at seeing Bucky’s cock, long and thick. It was pressed against his abs and you were slightly nervous at how it’ll fit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Easing you out of your worries, Bucky took his time with you. He lined himself up with your entrance before pushing in, giving you time to adjust to his large size. “Oh, Bucky!” You whimpered at the stretch. Tears left your eyes as he wiped them away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, darling. It’ll feel good. I promise.” Inch by inch, his cock continued to disappear into your cunt until he bottomed out inside you. He let the pain subside before slowly thrusting in and out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It feels good.” You let out, not realizing you held a breath in for so long. Bucky took your words as a signal to pick up the pace. The stinging pain you once felt was no longer present but instead, replaced with pleasure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As you can probably guess, I fucked her goddamn brains out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You kept whimpering underneath Bucky from how </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sex was, your arms wrapping around his neck with your cheek pressing into his shoulder for support, panting out breaths of hot air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so fuckin' tight, princess. All for me,” A couple of more thrusts and he could feel your walls tightly clench around his member. Everything felt good from the large vein on his cock rubbing against your walls to the tip hitting at your g-spot. In just a short time you were full of ecstasy and almost due for your release. “Come on, cum for me darling.” He huskily breathed into your ear. For sure it was the pet names that got to you. You instantly came all over his cock, falling onto the bed with your body quivering from the effect as he kept pounding into you, catching his own release as well. Before releasing his load, he had pulled out and let it coat your lower stomach and thighs. A mixture of white and red liquids coated the sheets underneath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He deflowered you. Ruptured your hymen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Popped your cherry.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whatever the best way to understand that you lost your virginity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And you enjoyed it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Being inside her was like your cock went to heaven and God himself was cupping your balls.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em><span>That one night and I couldn’t get enough.</span></em> <em><span>Every chance we got, we'd get together.</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During work, Bucky would be on the telephone, talking to you. Or after work, he would find himself following Hope’s car back home just so he could see you. And you would receive gifts of all kinds shipped from him ranging in stuffed teddy bears to roses to jewelry. You felt like a real princess because of it even though you told Bucky he didn’t have to gift materials, just his love was enough. Though, that didn’t stop him from doing so. Not even Thomas did anything as big as that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be a surprise if Bucky married you soon enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>October ‘92</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's amazing the kind of loyalty money will buy. Loyalty, like I said. Which was the key component to my incredible fucking success.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On a golf course, Bucky golfed with Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Toby with an addition to some hookers when suddenly, Thor pulled up in a golf cart with a cash-filled gym bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Besides Thor, I had eight other ‘ratholes’, close friends who'd own stock on paper, but kick the profits back to me after I drove the price through the roof.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both men hugged before pulling away and Bucky took the black bag over his shoulder. Steve tried to befriend Thor but he wasn't interested. “Who you s’pposed to be. Huh?” Thor asked, raising his chin up at Steve who was trying to shake the man’s hand. A cigarette perched from his lip and Thor briefly pulled it out before blowing some smoke into Steve’s face, causing the blond to cough in the midst of the scent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Bucky passed one of the brunette hookers and squeezed her covered tits before adding the gym bag to several others on the back of his golf cart, where he then zipped it open to see stacks of cash flowing out. It had to be at least 50K inside and multiplied with the five bags stowed? A quarter of a million right there. And the best part? It’s all cash… not on the books.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A big no-no in the eyes of the law. The SEC knew I was doing something shady, but they couldn't figure out what the fuck it was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe if I wanted, I could’ve worked with George Soros and raked in billions with “The Man Who Broke The Bank Of England”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another busy day in Stratton Oakmont was Bucky, his father George (Defacto CFO and head of the Gestapo as Bucky liked to call him), and the security lawyer Jon Favreau with coffees in their hand from the kitchen. Jon had stuffed a cruller donut into his mouth before speaking, his words getting eaten up in the process. “I'm telling you—piss on the SEC's leg, you'll end up with your tits in a ringer.” He tried to reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My securities attorney, Jon Favreau. Seven hundred an hour to be the voice of doom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's under control,” Bucky replied, already annoyed by the lecture. “Will you relax already?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all exited the kitchen until George was the first to speak up in frustration at two brokers break dancing in front of him; one doing the worm and another doing a handstand scissor kick “What the fuck are these imbeciles doing?! The SEC is here!” George crossed off, screaming at the break-dancing brokers while Bucky kept walking with Jon, an arm around his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The SEC sent two lawyers down to review our files, so I set them up in our conference room.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky and Jon passed the room, looking in the window with amusement at two SEC attorneys wearing coats and blowing into their hands for warmth as they reviewed the documents. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then I had it bugged and the air conditioning turned up so high that it felt like Antarctica in there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jon followed Bucky as he walked towards the bullpen, his frenzied brokers working the phones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So here they were, looking for a smoking gun while I was firing a bazooka right under their noses. It was our first IPO, and we were driving the stock price to the fucking moon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Off in the distance, some of Bucky’s employees chatted on the phone. All talking over one another with pleasing tones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arncliffe National</span>
  </em>
  <span>. it's on fire!” One broker exclaimed, getting hit in the face by a bouncy ball from another person nearby but remaining completely unfazed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another broker had his voice lowered while speaking on the phone. “Believe me, your grandkids will thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arncliffe National</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ten thousand shares!” Another said to the sales assistant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>See an IPO is an initial public offering, the first time a stock is offered for sale to the general population. As the firm taking the company public, we set the initial price, then sold those shares back to—You know what, you're probably not following what I'm saying. The real question is, "was it legal?" Absolutely fucking not. But we were making more money than we knew what to do with.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alone in a private room of the ZDC bank, Bucky unloaded a small suitcase filled with stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you do when you’re making more money than you know what to do with?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked himself as he contemplated his choices. He began to stuff the cash into a metal lockbox but clearly he needed more than one if he wanted to put </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cash inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I figured it out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the Four Seasons restaurant later that night, he ended the night being presented on one knee while displaying a huge diamond engagement ring resting in its box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>You looked down at the ring and all its glory with shock. It wasn’t even the traditional ring many people buy when they propose to their partner. It was a one-of-a-kind massive canary yellow diamond engagement ring. The type </span><em><span>rich</span></em><span> men like Bucky could afford with ease when he wants to pamper his girl right. </span><em><span>His girl</span></em> <em><span>being you!</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” You were speechless, hand on your heart to contain your initial shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky looked up at you from the chair, nervously pulling at his collar to cool himself down. He was most likely sweating underneath from how tightly his suit fitted him.  “YN MN LN will you marry me, princess?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” You repeated, still not able to wrap your head around the surreal moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So is that a yes, doll?” He chuckled nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” You managed to let out. He was dumbfounded to hear you ask that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, Bucky smiled at you with an ‘of course’ look. “Yeah, I’m sure. Yeah, I’m sure. Are you sure?” This time you were nodding vigorously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yes!” Bucky eagerly placed the ring onto your ring finger, his heart beating through the roof with a grace that you accepted the proposal. It was highly unlikely you would say no, especially since you loved him just as much and waited for the perfect moment like this to come. “Oh god, it’s beautiful.” You spoke with admiration upon further inspection of the diamonds. Just then, with all the love you could muster up, you pulled in Bucky’s face for a passionate kiss, his scruffy beard tickling the palms of your hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, you both made love again in your </span>
  <em>
    <span>shared</span>
  </em>
  <span> apartment in Manhattan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since your first time having sex, you both delved deep in different sex positions and tried out new kinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was one of those cases. “Oh! You like it like that baby! Huh?” You whined as you bounced on Bucky’s dick, feeling it impale you sopping cunt and hitting your cervix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Come on, baby!” Bucky growled huskily. He gripped at your hips, holding on while meeting with your thrusts. They were definitely going to leave bruises for tomorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky let out breathless laughs. “Mhm. You’re so fuckin’ tight.” You kept bouncing, trying to get yourself off on him and he saw the desperation in how you exaggerated your moves. “Wonderful view down here.” He smirked, enjoying the fact that you’re dominating him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and cum inside me.” You demanded, wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing lightly while using the other to hold on the headboard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dirty slut</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bucky’s face showed surprise but was replaced quickly with lust glossing over his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I plan on doing it, princess. I’m going to pump this pussy up so much that you’re going to be dripping cum for </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” As he said that, his hands moved over to your ass and smacked it roughly, emitting a shiver down your spine from the impact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that a promise?” You asked, already clenching your walls around his cock as you felt your release. Bucky jerked from the motion but nodded. You were close to milking his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A promise, baby. We got all night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, he came inside you which followed into eight more prolonged, mind-blowing orgasms until you nearly passed out and begged for him to stop. He had one hell of a sex drive and impressive stamina that you thank God himself for. The two of you were exhausted and your lower body was full of both of your juices combined, mainly leaking from your abused cunt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” You whined, already sensing the aching feel of your core. Bucky smirked but didn’t respond as he went to fetch a wet towel to clean you up. He made sure to avoid restimulating your clit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After throwing away the cloth, he got into bed. “You were amazing, princess.” He praised you while kissing your temple. With all the energy you could muster up, you shifted your body to be closer to him until you could feel his warmth. Your eyes were drifting to a close and you let your tired body take in the night for sleep, his arms wrapping around your naked waist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, YN.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>December ‘92</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside a jumbo jet paid solely for Bucky, a wild, mid-air party occurred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I held my bachelor party at the Tangiers in Las Vegas—one last blowout for the Gods before I settled down for good. There were at least a good hundred Strattonites that flew in with fifty hookers and enough drugs to open a pharmacy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky was engaged in fucking one hooker’s brains out while snorting a line of coke on another’s breast as those surrounding him had done the same, occupying passenger seats and aisles with their sweaty and naked bodies. Stratton brokers drank, did lines of coke, and about a half-dozen were in mid-orgy with the hookers, naked in the aisle as others poured champagne on them like a waterfall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All told, the weekend cost me almost $2 million dollars. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Another giant sex party happened inside the presidential suite of the Tangiers. It was in shambles on the level of Hiroshima. A giant crystal chandelier laid shattered on the floor. Bucky was fast asleep in the massive bed with a Blue Chip Hooker on either side of him; others passed-out in the room and laid amid debris and broken, toppled furniture littering everywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the wedding was like something out of a fairy tale. With YN my Princess, me, her handsome Prince, and The Bahamas Ocean Club our castle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Setting the scene, it was gorgeous and tropical on the beach. Bucky had gone as far as booking the venue of the expensive Ocean Club in the Bahamas and there you were standing in front of your new husband in a pricey wedding gown as you finished reciting the vows to one another. Hundreds of friends and family were there to witness the beautiful moment and you couldn’t begin to explain the overwhelmingly jubilant feeling running through your body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The marriage officiant finally proclaimed the words everyone’s been wanting to hear. “Now you may kiss the bride.” Bucky wasted no time dipping your body and smashing his lips on yours. Everyone there had risen in their seats and cheered, clapping their hands and expressing their delight at the new marriage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, you and Bucky waltzed on the dancefloor of the Ocean Club’s ballroom to the live music </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldfinger</span>
  </em>
  <span> provided by Sharon Jones and The Dap-Kings. Other guests joined in but in that moment, you and Bucky could only think about each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, after that bachelor party, the Prince needed a few penicillin shots so he could safely consummate the marriage.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Bucky.” You whispered as you leaned your head on your husband’s shoulder. He rested his bearded chin on the crown of your head, briefly closing his eyes to take in the wondrous moment as he peacefully swayed with your body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, princess.” He reminded you back, reminiscing about all the times he said those three specific words. At one point, he had spun you out before bringing you back into his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You kept the slow dance before pulling away and mingling with the other Strattonites. They congratulated both of you on the marriage and wished for a successful future. While Bucky was talking, you looked nearby where the hired videographer, Taika Waititi, approached Bruce and his date, Abigail.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm Taika Waititi, filming the wedding—would you like to say something to James and YN?” On his shoulder was the large camera. Bruce nervously smiled while Abigail nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good luck! We love you!” They said in unison before pecking one another on the lips softly. You smiled and across the way, spotted someone in the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god! Auntie!” You rushed over, excused yourself from the crowds of people, and hugged her. Aunt Em was in her mid-fifties, demure, and with a slight British accent after living in London for most of her life. After pulling away, you turned to Bucky who was in a huddle with his friends, his back towards you. “James, honey! Look!” You called out to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky turned, then crossed to you both, smiling with his pearly whites bared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James dear, how lovely.” She greeted him with poise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's so nice to finally meet you.” Bucky returned the greeting. As he leaned in to hug her your Aunt Em spotted some white powder on the edge of his nostril. Deftly, she wiped it off, smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Into the donuts, I see.” She teased lightly. Bucky looked nervous as he tried to cover up that he was using coke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I'm-uh…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aunt Em leaned into his ear. “I lived through the 60s, my dear. Enjoy the day.” She whispered—making sure you didn’t hear—which you didn’t. And with that, she turned back to you in conversation, leading Bucky to admire her upon the first meeting.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>January ‘93 - Strike #1: Hooker</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For my wedding present to YN, I got her a yacht named ‘Princess’. For three glorious weeks we sailed the Princess through the Caribbean—eventually taking her home to Long Island, where we'd bought a house. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seven acres on the Gold Coast of Long Island—the most expensive real estate in the world, with maids, cooks, landscapers, you name it. We even had two guards who worked in shifts, both named Rocco.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was heaven on earth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though, it was our time on the yacht that made everything feel like I was Cloud Nine and I didn’t want to leave. The sex we had was on every place in the boat that I could spread YN on.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It first started in bed. You both had cleaned up after jumping into the cold crisp water of the ocean and Bucky had dropped his towel in front of you while you sat on the edge of the bed, already trailing your fingers down to lightly squeeze his shaft before licking at the tip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…” Teasingly, you continued to only suck the tip before Bucky couldn’t take it anymore and pushed your head down, making you glide down to suck his cock and all its entirety. He felt your tongue coursing along the underside of his length, causing him to groan and gradually pull and push your head on and off his cock. “You feel so good.” He grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as you hollowed out your cheeks and made sure that you had no gag-reflex, you let him do as he wanted with your mouth, pounding it to the back of your throat that slight tears fell from the corner of your eyes until his warm thick ropes of cum filled your mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you pulled off of him, you seemed unfazed and only wiped away the streak of cum that dripped out of your mouth, licking it once again with such lust building in your eyes that Bucky wasted no time to take you roughly on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushed you back, already kneeling with your legs spread out just for him. With lust building up in his eyes too he pushed his head into your core and began sucking and licking at your entrance with fervor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t stop until you came all over his face before he got on the bed with you, taking you in a missionary position with his cock thrusting harshly in and out of your entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh B-Bucky!” You wantonly moaned as one of your hands curled into his hair and the other gripped for the sheets. With a sudden energy in his system he was going rougher, harder, and meaner into your already abused sex. You felt him all throughout your body including your breasts, neck, face, and legs. Pretty much anywhere he could place his lips on your burning skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes his hands gripped at your throat for added pleasure, like it was the missing piece to your puzzle. It fit there and in that moment you had thrown your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like that, baby girl? Me fucking you so hard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were only programmed to let out moans and repetitions of Bucky’s name from out of your mouth. Just as your walls suddenly had the urge to clench, the bubble that formed in your stomach popped, relishing in an extensive orgasm that made your legs shake violently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky came right after you, keeping himself tucked inside you as the creamy load threatened to spill out. He fell forward, careful to not keep all of his weight on top of you. Yet he did huskily whisper in your ear, igniting a whole new sexual mood. “I’m going to fuck you so hard doll. The only cock you’ll ever need in your life is mine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he made sure to keep that statement to heart as he took you on the boat deck underneath the hot summer sun, or in the cold showers against the sleek black marble, or best yet, against the window where anyone could’ve seen you except the two of you were in the middle of the ocean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He put you in </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> seven positions in just seventy minutes. An astounding feat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And by the end you were so fucked and poorly rawed out by your husband that you begged Bucky to leave you alone so you could recover. He obliged with the fulfilled satisfaction to release all his needs as well as yours and helped you into bed since on the way you had been limping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But once you recovered, the entire process would start again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” You whispered to Bucky, coming up from behind as he overlooked the sunrise from the top deck. Your hands had weaved through his arms, trailing down his bare chest and scratching lightly with your fingernails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, YN.” He replied back with just as much heartfelt feeling in his words as you had said those three magical words. His head turned back to meet at your lips, smiling happily into the kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But all good things must come to an end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You had been out with Hope for the night, spending it at a nightclub to celebrate her birthday. Bucky was supposed to come with you except he had business that needed to be taken care of. Hope was a bit disappointed by that but understood. However, that didn’t stop the fun the two of you were having in each other’s company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So tell me about the trip!” Hope wondered, asking about the Caribbean. You briefly told her about it and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex</span>
  </em>
  <span> while taking a sip of your margarita. She was suppressing her excitement to hear the details about it as well as you mentioning your new yacht.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gosh you really are the princess of New York when you’re with him.” She sighed playfully, gulping her drink down in one go and ordering another. “I wish I was married to a rich guy. Oh wait, I am the rich one.” You both laughed as you knew she was right. She was living an amazing life according to her standards and it’s all thanks to your husband and his brokerage firm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go dance! Come on!” You tell her while grabbing her hand to lead to the dance floor. She followed along and the two of you began to bop to the music playing loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song </span>
  <em>
    <span>Material Girl </span>
  </em>
  <span>by Madonna came up and it was like a coincidence. Nevertheless, you and Hope danced wildly to the music with the alcohol in your system to keep you ensured of fun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You continued to dance, sing, and drink until midnight where the two of you were exhausted and ready to end the night. Sharing a cab, the two of you went to your respective homes and upon arriving, you were too exhausted to take off your clothes and just wanted to sleep with your husband. You yawned loudly while shutting the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss!” You heard nearby to see one of the housekeepers in your home. “You’re back.” She spoke, sounding very surprised that it was alarming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Dinah. I am,” You replied with a slight frown before making your way up the stairs. “Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinah stopped you. “Miss! Just-” She took a deep breath before looking up at you with a guilty expression that you couldn’t quite translate. “Just be careful, honey.” She warned before letting you go your way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You weren’t sure what she meant but gave her a nod and continued up the stairs to your master bedroom. You half-expected Bucky to be in bed and half-expected him to be in his office but either way, going in the room would eliminate the other answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turns out he was in bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But. Fully. Fucking. Awake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You could tell by the naked hooker moaning underneath him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James Buchanan Barnes!” You screamed in horror to see him fraternizing without your knowledge. You covered your mouth and started to fake tears even though you were in a lot of pain from seeing him be so disloyal. It was just a month of marriage and he was already promiscous for fuck’s sake! Did the sex mean nothing to him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As one who gets caught by their partner in such a compromising position, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Y-YN! You’re back!” He replied with horror and shock written all over his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am!” You wracked a fake sob. “I-I can’t believe this!” The hooker from underneath Bucky had awkwardly wiggled her way out and began to quickly dress, avoiding to look at you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky was still horrified but trying to apologize. “Princess. Look I-I can explain-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could, you intervened. “I can’t believe you did this to me. Just a month into marriage and I see you in bed with this-this woman!” You pointed at her and continued the pathetic crying. Little did Bucky know you had a jaw-dropping moment for him. “I even stayed with you when you found out you had herpes!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud echoed </span>
  <em>
    <span>slap!</span>
  </em>
  <span> was heard reverberating throughout the room from the hooker slapping Bucky harshly on the face. He was stunned and as predicted, with his jaw hanging wide open at you. “Fuck you, you asshole!” She screamed before slowly stopping by you on her way to the door. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I was just doing a job.” She explained. You nodded, wiped your fake tears, and opened your purse—digging around for your wallet. It was odd that you weren’t mad at her but the least you could do was pay for her cab fare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here honey. For all the troubles with my husband.” She took it graciously and before leaving, stuck up her middle finger at him. You hadn’t stopped glaring at your husband and once she left, the two of you were alone for good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN darling, I’m sorry.” You crossed your arms and looked at him, unconvinced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have no right calling me that. You’re not going to get to touch me for a very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> long time for what you just did. I’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom. Night, </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Venom dripped from your scolding voice as you turned on your heel to exit the room. Suddenly you don’t feel tired anymore. Dinah had passed you in the hallway and gave another saddened look your way—the one full of pity which you despised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already prepped you a room at the end of the hall, sweetie,” Dinah informed gently. “Anything you would like me to do? You huffed ‘thank you’ and ‘no’ before following where she had said the room was. She was smart to put you far from Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you entered inside, you slowly sat at the edge of the bed and wondered if Bucky actually did have business to attend to or maybe the business was just another way to say a hook up. Whatever it was, you decided that you should sleep on it. Anyways, you were already punishing Bucky for denying him sex as long as possible. He’ll never last as long as it’s you. He’s addicted with you and clearly he could see it but chose to fuck himself over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this starting to become a mistake? Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes. Maybe I think I’m in love… or is this just all a game to Bucky? Does he really love me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You didn’t want to find out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After you left the master bedroom, Bucky needed to let out his frustration in the gym. He was about to head downstairs to the basement in his robe but noticed the stares of Dinah as he passed by her on the first floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong, Dinah?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head and walked away without a word. “Weird.” He whispered to himself before going to his gym, turning on the lights to display a wide array of exercise machines. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, the one he was interested in was his punching bag. He quickly wrapped his hands and put on the gloves, stood shirtless, and began letting out his anger and disappointment in himself. He shouldn’t have done that to himself, moreso to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He kept blaming himself until he couldn’t take it anymore. Even with all the money and gifts he could afford in the world, it could not possibly make up for the damage he caused to you and the marriage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you such a dickhead, Barnes? You don’t deserve her.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She gives her heart to you and this is how you treated her? By fuckin' another worthless whore?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s not going to even let you touch her! And fuck! I’m not getting head!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whack! Whack! Whack! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bucky couldn’t stop punching the bag. He was beyond furious with himself and his actions. Why did he have to act out of impulse? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Careful before you break it and shatter the glass.” He heard a familiar voice behind him. He looked up at the mirror to see Steve with his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unexpecting his arrival, Bucky stammered in his presence. “Steve? H-how did-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some woman named Dinah called me and asked for me to come over and knock some sense into you,” He stood up straighter with a smirk present. “So it’s what I'm here to do. Now talk to me, buddy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky had plopped onto a bench with sweat dripping from all over his body. “I fucked up, Steve. YN walked in on me with a woman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve walked over to the punching bag and slightly leaned on it. “So? Fuck her, Barnes. YN’s just being a-.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bitch? Steve really?” Bucky predicted. “She’s not. Okay? I love YN and I-I don’t want to lose her.” He admitted softly, rubbing his sweaty face with a sigh. Steve was no help with giving advice, only telling Bucky the things he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>hear instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve sighed but let out a dry laugh even when the situation wasn’t funny. Bucky looked up at him with a scowl. “You think this is funny, Steve?” The blond rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket to pull out a small metal pill container.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but I think you need one of these.” Without giving Bucky the time to react, he tossed it to him which luckily, he caught in his arms. He opened up the contents to see the pink-tinted pills: ludes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-you fucker. You know I shouldn’t take these.” However, Bucky was stressed out and took two before giving it back. The ludes nestled in his palm as he contemplated on whether or not to take them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it, fucker. I don’t want them to go to waste.” Bucky gave a few more seconds of staring blankly while the brain inside him played an angel on his right shoulder and the verbal voice of demon Steve rested on his other. Then, without a second thought did he pop them into his mouth. He swallowed dryly and Steve laughed almost tauntingly. “Good. Good.” He commented. Bucky stood up wearily, the drugs already in effect as Steve patted him on the shoulder. “Now go to bed. You interrupted my night with Sharon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three weeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took three weeks for you to finally forgive Bucky and the moment you did, Bucky celebrated by taking you raw over his desk. The amount of pent-up sex was finally released and he had taken you roughly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I missed you so much.” He grunted, pounding into your pussy while holding up your leg. Your hips met with his thrusts, moaning at the feeling of his cock ramming into your cervix. You gripped on the sides just so you could hold yourself up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you talk-talking about me or my pussy?” You managed to let out as a joke. Bucky quickly shut you up by forcing a finger in your mouth to slobber on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and take my cock.” He demanded, using his other free hand to slap your ass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir!” You screamed at the pain but it subsided when he rubbed over the burning flesh. He liked hearing you address him so formally and in an instant, his cock twitched inside your walls which your own walls clenched, milking himself of his cum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mixture nestled in your cunt until he pulled out his soft cock where it then pooled on the floor and dripped down your thighs. Just as you were about to get dressed, pushing off of your stomach, Bucky stopped you and flipped you so your back was resting on the edge of the desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not done yet, princess,” He spoke firmly. “I’m going to fuck you all over this room.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>February ‘95</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You and Bucky were laying in bed, already woken up since he would be having a big day ahead of him at Stratton Oakmont. It was going to be his first IPO with T’Challa Udaku. Though, he wasn’t ready to get up just yet. “Have you ever thought about having a baby, YN?” Bucky asked you curiously as he rolled on his side to face you. It produced a small smile from you at his question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I have.” You replied, already facing him and tracing your soft fingers on his cheek. “Have you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took your hand in his and kissed softly at the knuckles. “I have,” Then took a deep breath and continued. “Ever since you calmed that mother’s baby in the restaurant.” He was referring to last week when the two of you were out together on a date and there had been a commotion nearby from a crying baby. The mother was clearly stressed and as Bucky was getting annoyed, you intervened to help her out by nursing the baby to sleep. From that moment, Bucky realized how great of a mother you would be; you were already extremely kind to the people around you and very independent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a big responsibility though.” You happened to mention, knowing how Bucky was. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, already scolding himself for walking into that one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. But I’ve gotten better haven’t I? Anyways wouldn’t it be nice to see a little Barnes running around the house?” You let out a chuckle and agreed. The thought of starting a family with him did sound nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Your voice lowered to a whisper, almost as if someone could have listened in on the conversation. “We can start now if you wanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky replied. You frowned but he had elaborated. “I want to take it slow with you. Make passionate love for my princess. We’ll do it tonight okay?” Bucky removed the covers and began to sit up while you did the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Passionate sex? Hmmm…” You hummed in delight, liking the sound of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be just like the first time I took your virginity. I’m going to be slow and cherish that beautiful body of yours.” You were dazed to hear Bucky say that. He had taken your virginity more than two years ago and that was the only time you ever had sweet, slow, love-making sex. The rest was just rough fucking whenever the two of you needed to blow off some steam so going back to something like that made your body tingle with excitement. “Wear something nice for me, will you? Maybe that lingerie I bought you on Valentines day.” He winked before heading to the shower to get ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, you couldn’t wait until Bucky came home from work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside of Bucky’s office, Steve and Shuri had been talking to one another until they saw him heading towards them. Steve momentarily looked at his watch and tapped on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There he is. You’re late, Barnes. The hell?” Of course, Steve meant late in a different context. Bucky had just arrived at the firm a couple of minutes after 9:30 a.m. which </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> happens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky ignored his question, went in for a quick hug, and pulled away, scanning the office and pausing at one area before getting his attention back on his friend. “Steve here yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On his way. Very excited.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded. “Good. ‘Cause we have a problem.” From then did he turn back at the area to see one broker in particular from the bullpen where Steve and Shuri’s gaze followed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is he wearing a bow tie?” She asked, incredulous. In their view, a young Stratton broker was wearing a bow tie, as Shuri had noticed—compared to everyone else wearing regular ties—as well as cleaning a small goldfish bowl on his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the same manner as his assistant, Bucky shook his head in disappointment. “He's got nothing better to do on the day of the biggest IPO in this firm's history?!” Instantly, Steve decided to take action and marched towards the broker in a bow tie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, kid? Where you from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peter Parker. Queens.” The broker replied with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded, forcing a smile then quickly replacing it. “The fuck you doing?” He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking bewildered, Peter looked around at the others before looking at Steve, wondering if it’s a test. “Cleaning my fishbowl.” He replied firmly but nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Steve let out, not believing what he was hearing. Steve nodded, turned to go, but suddenly turned back and thrusted his arm into the bowl, grabbing for the squirming goldfish. Peter looked on, horrified by the action. From afar, watching Steve dangle the fish from his fingers did Bucky look amused at his friend teaching the broker a lesson. Steve continued in his lividness. “On new issue day?! On cocksucking, motherfuckin’ new issue day?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dozens of brokers and sales assistants looked over as Steve snatched up the fish. Holding it by its tail, he jumped up on the desk of Peter’s, capturing the attention of the entire bullpen while overlooking them. “This is what happens when you fuck with your pets on new issue day!” With the flair of a showman, Steve tilted his head back and popped the live fish in his mouth, swallowing it whole. The brokers cheered wildly and clapped their hands at his extremeness. Steve jumped down, getting in the face of Peter. “Now take your bow tie, get your shit, and get the fuck out!” He was stunned but is quick to follow with everyone else booing him. Hard to admit but Bucky enjoyed every shame moment of his ex-broker’s final seconds at the company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Now that’s taken care of. I’ll be in my office.” Bucky excused himself and entered inside. He heard the phone ringing and went to take it. About ten minutes passed by and he finished the phone call just as Steve entered with T’Challa Udaku, in his thirties, dressed in a sharp black suit, matching slacks, and a purple ring adorning his left hand. Bucky smiled, and walked around his desk to greet him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Miner. Ready to get rich?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello bud.” T’Challa replied, settling on the couch and starting off their meeting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>T’Challa Udaku came to me a few years earlier when he was just starting out, so I became a silent partner in his company, buying an 85% stake for only a million bucks.</span></em> <em><span>The company blew up and we were now taking it public. It was the biggest deal we'd ever done and the hottest IPO on Wall Street.</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still in mid-conversation was Steve, Bucky, and T’Challa. “-which is why they need to meet you.” Steve informed the designer shoemaker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gotta get ‘em fired up so they'll push the shit out of this stock.” Bucky said with agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve had also added on once again. “Yep.” He replied with emphasis on the ‘p’. “Let them feel your passion.” T’Challa inhaled but agreed and just seconds later did the ball start rolling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bullpen was bustling with activity while Bucky and Steve looked on from nearby. T’Challa approached a microphone on the raised platform, in his hands were several shoe boxes with his company name on them: </span>
  <em>
    <span>T’Challa Udaku</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Into the mic, he began. “Uhhh... excuse me…” The place slowly comes to order. “For those of you who don't know me, my name is T’Challa Udaku. I'm-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We know who you are!” Sam yelled out. T’Challa cleared his throat, looked over at Bucky—he was terrified. Bucky motioned for him to calm down and that he was doing great.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh, I'd like to start by telling you about my background in the mining industry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another broker, this time from Toby, had made a comment to T’Challa. “Nice fuckin' ring!” He chimed. T’Challa ignored and continued on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh... first started working in the mining industry, in my dad’s business. When I was eighteen, my friends were out chasing girls, but I was learning about how to harvest our country’s precious metals, Vibranium.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Move the mic closer!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right! We can’t fuckin' hear you!” Some brokers had said from the back of the room. He moved the mic; feedback screeched through the bullpen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry... Anyway, my first job was at the mining mound. You know, I can honestly say I've been a lover of Vibranium since it was first discovered-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weirdo!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Heh-heh. Not like that. I mean somehow I became fascinated with the endless possibilities for Vibranium’s use-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like what? Dildo’s?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get a fuckin' life!” Boos and hisses come from the cruel brokers as more joined in on criticizing him. T’Challa Udaku looked at Bucky once more, who motioned for him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>to speed up. He grabbed a dense black metal with a purplish glow from one of the boxes. “This metal,” He held it up to the light. “Vibranium is extremely powerful and only could be found in Wakanda. It can store, release, and absorb large amounts of kinetic energy but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Splat!</span>
  </em>
  <span> A half-eaten grapefruit landed at T’Challa’s feet. In a flash, Bucky rushed over, grabbing the mic to save him from any more humiliation. Kind of funny thinking back to the other poor kid who just got fired. Though, it’s always business, baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let's hear it for T’Challa Udaku and the wonderful Vibranium he had to show!” Huge applause, with stomping feet and howling rang through the room. “Okay, now that you got that out of your system, I want you to know why T’Challa is so completely off the fuckin' wall... It's because this man is a gift from the gods of Wakanda or whatever. T’Challa’s power—his gift—is that he harvests one of the life-changing metals. Men like T’Challa come along once a century! Elvis Presley! Andy Warhol! Giorgio Armani! Who knows how high this stock could go? The 20s? The 50s? The 80s?” Applause erupted again as well as additional war whoops. Yet, Bucky motioned for the team to quiet down with a finger to his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopped from the platform and began walking through the aisle. “I want everybody to look down. See that little black box in front of you? It's called a telephone. Now I'm gonna let you in on a little secret about this telephone—it won't dial itself! That's right—until you take some action, it's nothing more than a worthless hunk of plastic, like a loaded M16 without a trained Marine to pull the trigger. And in the case of the telephone, it's the action of you, a highly trained Strattonite, a killer who will not take no for an answer! A person who will not hang up the phone until his client either buys or fuckin' dies!” The brokers go </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.      Bucky looked around with satisfaction at the uproar he caused, it spurred him to keep going with his king’s speech.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't care if you graduated from Harvard or Bumfuck University or never got past fourth fuckin' grade! That phone is the great equalizer!” Pausing, he looked around the room at all those eyes on him. “There is no nobility in poverty. I've been rich, and I've been poor and I choose rich every time.” Slight cheers of agreement squeezed through the silent air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky continued with his speech and now everyone was crowding him. “At least as a rich man, when I have to face my problems, I show up in the back of a limo wearing a $2,000 dollar suit and $40,000 dollar gold watch!” Bucky removed his gold watch, flinging it to the crowd. Brokers went nuts, fighting over it like a home-run ball. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if anyone here thinks I'm crazy, get the fuck out and get a job at McDonald's, because that's where you fuckin’ belong! But before you depart this room full of winners, I want you to take a good look at the person next to you, because one day in the not-so-distant future, you'll be sitting at a red light in your beat-up old Pinto, and that person's gonna pull up in a brand new Porsche, with their gorgeous young wife at their side. And who will you be next to? Some ugly beast with three days of razor-stubble in a sleeveless moo-moo, crammed in next to you with a carload of groceries from the fuckin' Price Club!” He scanned the brokers who are all on the edge of their seats, waiting for more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you listen to me and listen carefully. Are you behind on your credit card bills? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Pick up the phone and start dialing. Is your landlord threatening to evict you? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Pick up the phone and start dialing. Does your girlfriend think you're a fuckin' loser? Pick up the phone and start fuckin' dialing! I want you to deal with your problems by becoming rich! I want you to go out and spend money! Leverage yourself, back yourself into a corner, let the consequences of failure become so fuckin' unthinkable that you'll have no choice but to do whatever it takes to win!” The brokers went absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>apeshit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s voice continued to raise. “You have an obligation here, people! To your clients! To this firm! An obligation to yourself, goddammit! You cram </span>
  <em>
    <span>T’Challa Udaku’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>stock down your clients' throats and make them choke on it till they buy 20,000 shares! Be aggressive! Be ferocious! Be telephone fuckin' terrorists!” Before Bucky is even finished, the brokers were </span>
  <em>
    <span>berserk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, some already dialing their phones. They all began to pick up their phones and compete to sell stocks with passion from Bucky’s inspiring talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 1 p.m. we opened the stock for sale at $4.50 dollars a share. By 1:03 it was over $18 dollars. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course I couldn't have done this without help. I'd leaked the word on Wall Street that Stratton was a buyer up until twenty. So not only were we pushing Udaku, all the big firms were too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As long as they knew I'd buy the shares back at the top of the market, they'd drive the price up as high as I fucking wanted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve poured champagne nearby, as Bucky sat at his desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of the 2 million shares being offered for sale, a million belonged to me, held in phony accounts by my ratholes. Once the price hit the high teens, I</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Like I said before, who gives a shit? As always, the point is this…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve handed the glass full of champagne to Bucky. “22 million in three fuckin' hours!” Steve exclaimed. They brought up their glass to toast, then each popped ludes, which they wash down with the bubbling liquid. A quick knock; Shuri popped her head into the office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Call for you. Taika Waititi from Future Video?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name didn’t ring a bell for Bucky. He scrunched his nose with a puzzled look appearing. “Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He filmed your wedding. He says it's urgent.” Curious, Bucky leaned over, hitting the speaker phone option.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Taika?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, hey,” The man greeted from the other line. “Listen, I got a subpoena. The FBI wants a copy of your wedding video.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh-oh. The F-B-fucking-I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky left the office with the lingering thought in his mind of the FBI on his ass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But all that changed once he got home to you in lingerie, just like he suggested. It was a skimpy black bra and underwear set from Victoria’s Secret along with a styled garter belt to hold your knee-length stockings. He was absolutely speechless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi baby. How was the IPO?” You inquired delicately while sitting on the bed, leg crossed over the other. He didn’t respond as he started shrugging off his suit and flung it somewhere across the room, also losing the tie in the process.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stalked over to you quickly and pushed you backwards on the bed, kissing you roughly on your mouth. Once he pulled away to breath, his forehead was on yours. “It was great, sweetheart. Now let’s get to the baby making process,” You chuckled at his forwardness but it turned into a moan when you felt his hand cupping your cunt. It was soaked through the thin lacy material. Bucky pulled away from your face with a smirk. “All wet and ready for me, darling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All for you, Barnes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You affirmed with a bite of your lip. He was happy to hear that as he unexpectedly ripped at the fabric, tearing it to reveal your sopping cunt. Bucky revelled in the sight like it was money; No. Better than money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barnes!” You scowled as he let out a breathless laugh. Just as you were going to tell him the cost of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>expensive gift </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you, you seized your words when he got down on his knees to lick a stripe at your slick and start sucking lightly on your clit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You moaned out loud, not caring whether someone—like the housekeepers—had heard or not. Bucky used one hand to toy with your covered breasts while the other entered inside your entrance, slowly pumping his fingers inside to get your riled up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Bucky…” You whined, closing your eyes tightly at the pleasure he was giving you. He moved on from sucking your bud to giving kitten licks while pumping his long finger inside you. You bucked your hip closer to his face, juices coating his tongue and to him, you tasted sweeter than any dessert he has ever had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few more pumps, his finger curled upwards to hit at your g-spot, jolting you and making you grip at the sheets tightly. You let out another whine as he kept hitting at the spot, trying to get you to cum for him on his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so close. So close.” You muttered repeatedly, your walls clenching around his fingers and tongue. Just as you felt the pressure from your stomach build up, you couldn’t take it anymore and screamed out Bucky’s name as the orgasm gushed all over his fingers and tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such a good girl,” He kissed your inner thighs, leaving your wet arousal on it before moving up at your face again and kissing so you could have a taste of yourself. Once positioning his crotch by your bare pussy, he popped his glistening fingers in his mouth and sucked them off. “Taste so fuckin' sweet. Like honey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as you loved this from your husband, you were beginning to grow impatient. “Come on, Buck. Isn’t it you promise to give me a child?” He was quick to tut you, unzipping his pants and pulling out his erected member.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did but you got to be patient, princess.” Precum leaked from the slit of his pink-toned tip. He slowly rubbed it on your lips before pushing into the entrance slowly, giving you a moment to spare so you could accommodate to his size. In all the times you both fucked, you could never take him in one go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky gripped at your hips and with a quick motion, he impaled the rest of his dick inside you to bring you closer to the edge of the bed, making you tear up from the slight pain. He cooed softly at you while pushing himself slowly, until his balls hit your ass. “It’s okay baby. It’ll feel good now. Doesn’t it?” You nodded and pulled him in for a kiss as your lower body wrapped around his waist, locking him in a position that’ll give better access to thrust deeply inside you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your hands were soon to be by your head as Bucky intertwined them with his own fingers. He thrusted slowly in you, making you feel every part of his cock in all its entirety: velvety skin and veins included. He peppered soft, angelic kisses on your neck, collarbone, and jaw. When he said he wanted to cherish your body, he fucking meant that shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doll, you’re so tight.” You wantonly moaned at the words, clenching your walls involuntarily around his pulsating cock when it reached the base of your cervix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s grunts, growls, and pants were right beside your ear as he kept going at a much slower pace. You basked in his appreciation to take it slow but wanted so badly to bring his body to your chest so you could run your nails down his skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We got $22 million dollars.” Bucky let out after a quiet ‘fuck’ left his mouth. You looked into his eyes and face, reading how it didn’t quite register what he said. In fact, he looked sad? Confused?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a good thing, baby?” He nodded and placed his lips on yours, washing away your curiousness for him, and swallowing up your verbal moans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough there was a pressure forming that you couldn’t hold in any longer. Bucky whispered for you to let go—to release—and by the way his voice said it, it was enough to let you orgasm all over his cock, chanting his name like a prayer in the process.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, Bucky wasn’t as close yet so he started picking up the pace. He wasn’t going feral yet but the thrusting was medium, enough to get him to cum in due time. His hands were removed from yours as he used them to position your legs over his shoulder, hitting on other crevices in your vagina that you’ve never felt before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James…” You muttered, bringing your fingers onto his arms to grip and scratching them in the process. He looked down at you, all beautiful and just half-naked. He wondered how he got lucky with you and if you ever wanted to become a model. You surely had the looks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm so close.” He informed, jutting his hips. He continued to light pound at your cervix before bottoming out deep in your walls, warm cum ejecting and painting them creamy white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky wasn’t in a rush to pull out. He kept his cock buried deep in you. He lifted your tired body from the bed and this time, was the one to sit on the edge while you were on his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty girl.” He mumbled while stroking his big hand on your cheek. You blushed profusely. It was always his comments that got you everytime, something that was hard to avoid because it made you feel amazing on the inside. While staying in that position for who knows how long, you nestled your face into his neck and sucked gently on the spot. He moaned at the feeling and helped give you better access.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands trailed from your waist to cup your ass, spreading it further while a mix of cum and juices leaked from your spout and onto the expensive carpet below.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. I just got cum onto my $182,000 dollar Tabriz carpet. I guess it was worth getting it soaked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moments later Bucky ordered for you both to clean up and called for the maid to replace the sheets. He had carried you all the way to the bathroom, both showering together quickly before making your way back to bed with fresh beddings. He let you down carefully before moving to the other side to join you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’ll be a girl or a boy?” You asked, your eyelids closing but actively awaiting his response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope it’s a girl. I want to spoil her like a little princess.” You chuckled at that but he was being serious. You opened your eyes again to see him looking the same as before this time with worry. “What’s on your mind, Buck?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, princess. Nothing to worry about.” He assured you, lying. You took it as a signal to not prod further and went to sleep close to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Bucky. I want you to remember that.” You spoke, implying that if he ever needed to talk to you, he can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do, sweetheart. I love you too.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and pulled your body close to his chest like an embrace. “Get some sleep. I have an early day tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>July ‘95</span>
  </em>
  <span> - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Strike #2: Money</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five months into your pregnancy, Bucky unexpectedly announced that he was going to Switzerland for business. What he happened to leave out was what </span>
  <em>
    <span>type</span>
  </em>
  <span> of business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce set up a meeting with a Swiss Banker he knew from law school who could launder our money, but it wasn't till noon the next day. I knew if I timed my lude intake right, I'd sleep through the entire overnight flight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At 4 p.m., while working in the firm, I popped a few ludes, which started kicking in by the time I finished our sales meeting. This was the tingle phase.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By dinner I popped a few more on top of some cocktails and a valium or two. The slur phase.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And by 10 p.m. I didn't know who or what I was doing—the amnesia phase. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You had been giving Bucky a ‘goodbye’ blowjob before he left for his trip with no recollection that you were doing so because he was so high.</span>
  <em>
    <span> We boarded the plane just before midnight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky entered Zurich Airlines slurring, drooling, and absolutely wasted. To the stewardess who greeted him, he exclaimed. “Sweetheart! Look at you!” And as he hugged her, stumbled towards his seat with the help of a partially-high-yet-functional, Steve Rogers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morning sunlight bled through the window. Bucky’s eyes flickered open. He yawned, looked around, tried to get up, but couldn't move. Upon wondering why, he saw six seat belts restraining his arms and legs. Bucky looked over at Steve, mouth agape, and fast asleep next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve. Steve, wake up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nuuhhh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Untie me, shitbag. You think this is funny?” Bucky shifted but could barely move an inch in the seat. Steve rubbed at his eyes tiredly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn't tie you, the captain did. He almost tasered you.” He responded groggily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky frowned at him with confusion. What had he done that deserved almost being tasered? “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Flashback</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woo! Come and get it!” Bucky screamed. All around him passengers screamed from their seats as he humped a stewardess like a dog in heat in public with the captain struggling to restrain him. Steve had tried to help but it took three men to get Bucky off of the poor woman. He was just too strong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>End of Flashback</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This was fucking great. I hadn't laundered a dime yet and already I was under arrest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pensive Bucky sat, mind racing. He, along with Steve, was already removed from the plane and brought to the customs office in the Geneva airport. Bucky traded a look to Steve who shifted uncomfortably in the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Worse yet was the plastic baggie of ludes that Steve stuffed up his ass. But before he could even get a hemorrhoid—the whole thing was quashed by our friend the Swiss banker. Which was lucky for me, since so far I'd been able to keep the FBI unaware of the trip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, another customs officer came into the office and whispered to the others. Next thing Bucky and Steve knew, they were shaking hands with the Swiss men and on their way to the Banque Real De Geneve in a limo with Bruce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lobby of the bank was ultra-modernist by its black marbled floors and extravagant waiting room couches. Not to mention did they have top security for added measure to ensure Switzerland’s money doesn’t get stolen. Arnim Zola greeted them; short, in a suit, and wearing thin-wire rim glasses. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would’ve thought this was just some assistant to the banker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James Barnes! At last! Bruce has told me so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruce stood beside the two men, happy of their greeting. He introduced his boss to his old friend. “James, Arnim Zola.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet your acquaintance. This is some lobby you got.” Bucky complimented as he shook the short man’s hand. Steve was behind his friend, trying to hold in a snicker because by the impeccable height difference, they had to at least be a foot taller than him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a thick Swiss accent, Zola returned the greeting. “Ah, yes. We gave our designer an unlimited budget and he exceeded it. Come! You must tell me all about your adventure with the stewardess over coffee!” They all disappeared upstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In Zola’s office, Bucky, Bruce, and Steve drank coffee with Zola and one other Swiss banker. It's an impressive office, with an enormous fish tank that seemed to give Steve war-like flashbacks to his time eating Peter’s goldfish alive. He quickly drank away the thought, merely burning his tongue which successfully distracted him from the pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve set down his coffee and lightly stuck out his tongue to ease the burning, trying to play it subtle. “We-uh have a joke in America. ‘Heaven is a place where the police are Brits, the chefs are Italian, the car mechanics are German, the prostitutes are French, and the bankers are Swiss.’ I never got it till now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zola smirked and got up from his seat to retrieve a cup of water before returning to hand it to Steve. “Yes, we have the same joke here. Only sometimes the English are chauffeurs and the chefs are French. The Germans, alas, are always mechanics; no one wants to grant them more authority than that.” Polite laughter. Bucky, not as impressed by the fish, cuts straight to the point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm curious about your bank secrecy laws.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excusez-moi, James, Swiss custom requires ten minutes of idle chit-chat before business can be discussed.” He posed a smile. “Of course, let's get ‘down to it.’ What would you like to know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Under what circumstances would you be obligated to cooperate with an FBI or U.S. Justice Department investigation?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ca depend.” Zola blinked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ca depend?” Bucky repeated with a crease in his brow. “Ca depend on what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zola saw the opportunity and took it. “Whether America plans to invade Switzerland in the coming months.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Want me to see if tanks are rolling down the Rue de la Croix?” Bruce joked in addition to the banker, attempting to say the words in an accent but failing. Though, Zola smiled at his attempt and more chuckles erupted. Bucky forced a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What I'm asking, you Swiss dick, is are you going to fuck me over?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zola looked at him, reading him closely as he figured out what Bucky wanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I understand perfectly, you American shitheel. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And proceeded to clear his throat. “The only way the Banque Real de Geneve would cooperate with a foreign legal body is if the crime being pursued also happened to be a crime in Switzerland. But there are very few Swiss laws pertaining to your ‘rumored’ improprieties. Which is why Mr. Rogers's joke is most appropriate: from a financial standpoint you are now in heaven, and we welcome you. If the U.S. Justice Department or FBI or SEC or IRS sent us a subpoena, it would become </span>
  <em>
    <span>papier-toillette</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We would wipe our ass with it.” Everyone’s impressed besides Bucky who kept himself neutral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless,” He started with a quick scratch of his beard. “It was an investigation into stock fraud—which is a crime in Switzerland. Then you'd have to cooperate.” Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Zola was impressed. “Yes, we would. Assuming the account is under your name. However, if it were in the name of a nominee of yours…” They took each other in, understanding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that yodeling I just heard or did you just say what I thought you said?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The banker’s face lit up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes! Yes!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the meeting wrapped up with handshakes, Bucky’s thoughts overwhelmed Zola’s thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was telling me to use a rathole. Problem was: sneaking a U.S. rathole into Switzerland was a chance I couldn't take. What I needed was somebody with a European passport.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who could that be?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next day</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at home, Aunt Em had visited you at the Long Island mansion to see how you were doing during your pregnancy. The two of you had just finished folding the laundry and were now drinking tea on the back patio overlooking the water when she stopped your conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Bucky and I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That reminds me! I mustn't forget your gift.” She leaned down into her birkin bag and pulled out a box for you. You took it and thanked her before setting it aside by the plate of cookies. “Oh dear, go on. Go open it.” She pleaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” You drawled, taking the package again and opening it up to see tissue paper wrapping the item. Once uncovered, you hold up the gender-neutral baby clothes she had bought and was in awe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Auntie… oh thank you so much. It’s perfect.” You raised it high for her to see and after wrapping it back into the package, got up to hug her tightly. Just as you pulled away, you heard Dinah calling for you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss! Mr. Barnes has just arrived.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What! I didn’t think he was coming back so soon. This is quite perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You spun on your heel to face Aunt Em and was excited for Bucky to meet her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Send him out back, will you?” You asked Dinah who politely nodded and went back inside to do so. It was seconds later that you saw Bucky with his suitcase as he saw you in a flowing, yellow sundress and matching hat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Princess! I’m back.” He laughed while kissing you. You indulged in it before pushing him away, a shame building up in your cheeks since Aunt Em had been looking. He finally acknowledged her presence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! My apologies, Em. Didn’t see you there.” He replied with a tint of red also on his face. She laughed her innocent laugh and waved off the situation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait… doesn’t Aunt Em live in London?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wondered. This could be his chance!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So Buck, I was thinking-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And before you do sweetpea,” He stopped you before looking at Aunt Em. “I was wondering if I could talk to Em? In private?” You frowned at him but gave in when Aunt Em gave an assuring touch. The two entered inside the home, probably to talk in his office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re awfully twitchy.” Aunt Em teased as she entered inside Bucky’s office. He shut the door and looked nervous to say what he had to say. Pointing to his drink cart, he offered her alcohol and she denied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You still live in London, right?” Bucky finally had the courage to muster up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aunt Em nodded slowly, confused on why he asked in the first place. “Yes, of course dear. Is something on your mind?” Bucky plopped into his chair and tapped his feet on the ground to fidget.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need your help. I just came back from Switzerland and need to open an account in your name. I'll fund it, and I'll pay you really well for your trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Next month maybe you can fly back here and we can start moving the cash.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Moving the cash.” Aunt Em smiled with ease. She didn’t sound so bothered with the idea which threw Bucky off guard for a moment. “I feel like a character in an Ian Fleming novel. It's all quite racy, isn't it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky nodded, running his fingers through his hair and tugging at the end. “It is, and it's illegal too. Of course if you ever got in trouble, I'd come forward in two seconds, say I duped you, but even still.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Risk is what keeps us young, isn't it darling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He liked Aunt Em from the beginning but now, he loved her even more. “I like that attitude. Promise me you'll spend at least ten thousand pounds per month out of the account, okay?” Aunt Em chuckled at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn't even know how. I really do have everything I need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I bet you don't have everything you want. How about a bigger apartment so your grandkid can sleep over?” Aunt Em nodded, noticing his antsiness again. She took a seat in front of him with her leg crossed over the other. He could see you in her. It was kind of weird.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I wonder if you let money get the best of you, dear,” She paused before adding. “Among other substances.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's that obvious, huh?” He sighed, slapping himself on the forehead. “I'm a drug addict, Em. Coke, pills, you name it, whatever you got. Sex addict too.” He admitted carelessly. He found it so easy to open up to her, like she was some kind of therapist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well there are worse things to be addicted to than sex.” Aunt Em shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Why did I just tell you that?” He laughed, moreso to himself. Aunt Em placed a hand onto the desk, tidying his ornaments so that they were even to her liking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I'm very easy to talk to.” She answered playfully. Bucky looked at her, agreeing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact you are. My job, you know, it's tough. I mean I'm not complaining, it's just the stress. All these people depend on me. Millions of dollars at stake every day. I sometimes feel I've bitten off more than I can chew.” By now, Bucky felt the conversation between the two of them was smooth and he had stopped fidgeting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a big appetite.” She kidded. Eventually she stood up and fixed her clothes to keep the wrinkle-free. “You take care of my niece, my love. And I'll take care of everything in Europe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as the two were about to exit, Bucky opened the door for him to be greeted with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>smack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Aunt Em yelped in horror, covering her expression. “YN!” He retreated back into the office and held up his hand to the red imprint where you slapped his cheek. “What the hell?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I let you talk to my Auntie because I thought you were planning a baby shower but instead I hear that you want her to launder your money across the world! You manipulator!” You raised your hand to strike again but immediately lowered when you felt a kick at your stomach, causing you to double over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby?” You sunk to the floor on your hands and knees to catch a breath but swatted Bucky away as he moved closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I’m fine!” He backed away in surrender and let Aunt Em be the one to take care of you. She cupped your face in her frail hands and made you look at her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look honey, don’t be mad at James. I’m willing to do this for him and you. It’ll be a lot of money to support that,” She stared at your baby bump. “The life growing inside of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You inhaled deeply and tore your gaze back at Bucky. “Why the hell did you not tell me?” He crouched lowly, keeping a safe distance from you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was scared. I’m sorry.” You nodded and let him help you up but you still didn’t fully forgive him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We vowed to tell each other everything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” You grumbled before leaving your family behind the office, heels clicking loudly on the floor until it diminished as you moved further away from the room. Aunt Em tried to get him to cheer up but he knew this was his strike two. Just one more and like how they say in baseball, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Will that happen? Will he </span>
  <em>
    <span>afford</span>
  </em>
  <span> to let that happen? Bucky didn’t want to find out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to come clean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s just what he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night over dinner with Aunt Em, he told you about the on-going FBI investigation into the company, the trip to Switzerland, and the reason why he needed Aunt Em to help him with the money. To say the least, you were disappointed but more grateful that he had told you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, you even told him too that you already knew what he did was illegal and accepted that part of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean what can I say? I’m not surprised because Thomas did the same thing. Just be careful. Do it for our kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Bucky promised. “For our kid.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>August ‘95</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh Bucky!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You make me want to have another kid.” Bucky panted as he thrusted inside you. Six months pregnant and $20 million dollars richer, Bucky was fucking your brains out on top of the bundles of cash that covered every square inch of the bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk! Thunk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With each move of his body, some of that cash had fallen off and you were laughing wildly at the amount of greens surrounding you to keep you in a life of luxury.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh baby, it feels good.” You tell him wantonly. Your walls squeezed his cock as he trailed his hands over your baby bump. The action made him release inside you and pull out to throw away the dirty condom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, princess. Look at you like a model on the bed.” He sighed with content. With your baby bump and plump breasts, he couldn’t get enough of touching and protecting you. He walked back to the bed and laid on it, bringing his head close to your bare breasts to admire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, Bucky.” You signaled him as he opened his mouth to take the bud eagerly. You moaned and played with the hair on the back of his head as he sucked and nibbled on your peak, taking in some of the milk that happened to dribble out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It tastes sweet,” He murmured, pulling away. His warm hand had trailed to your stomach to feel the bump. “Can’t wait to see our baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. Maybe she or he will have your eyes.” You replied, hopeful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And your hair.” He stroked it and you let out a chuckle, grabbing a nearby stack of money to softly hit him with it. He looked at you aghast and pulled you into his body—avoiding pressure on the bump—to kiss all over your face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw Bucky! Stop it!” You yelled, not wanting him to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me just cherish you, princess!” He protested back, not stopping his actions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no way Aunt Em could smuggle that much cash by herself. I racked my brain for another person with a foreign passport. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As a successful drug dealer, Thor spent his winters in the South of France, which is where he met his wife Chantalle, a stripper of Romanian origin but born in, of all places, Switzerland.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With $20 million dollars in cash on the bed, Bucky and a stoned Steve watched as Thor taped stacks of cash to his wife—a bombshell in panties, bra, and sneakers. You had been with them, hand protectively resting on your baby bump as you saw the scene unfold before you between two bickering partners.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Th-or, theese tape eez focking steeky!” She complained as Thor didn’t listen and kept circling around her with the tape. “Take eet off, Th-or! Eet erts!” She repeated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, bitch.” Thor grunted, a cigarette perched between his lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You beetch, you focking douche-a-bag-a!” Steve couldn’t help but be entertained by it. “Take eet off! Take eet off!” She was now begging and smacking Thor whenever he passed in front of her. He seethed at it but kept on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Chantalle was completely taped up like a cash-covered mummy. Bucky looked on with Thor, Steve, and now you. At least 90% of the cash was still on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, this is fucked.” Bucky sighed as he brought a hand up to rub his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's going to take her fifty trips.” You replied, just as stressed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay.” Thor assured, returning to stand beside Bucky. “We'll get her parents to tape up too. They got Swiss passports. Plus her brother and his wife. Five people, six-seven trips?” He suggested with a guess. It didn’t sound too bad of a plan. Bucky asked how much they might want from it and Thor replied that it might not be much, but just doing it only for the miles which pleased him to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about my money?” Steve asked all of a sudden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Thor asked back, hearing him clearly, but wondering why he was asking a favor from him like they were buddies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My money. I got a few million of my own that I wanna move. I'll call you, you can come pick it up.” Steve reiterated. He made it sound harmless but the hothead that Thor was took it to a whole new direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thor took offense to Steve’s presumption. “You’ll call me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chantelle spoke up this time. Hand on her hip as she replied with sass. “We don’t work for you, man!” Steve scoffed with a smile, holding up his hand to stop her from talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lady, you got my money strapped to your tits. You do work for me.” He told her off. Thor looked more than pissed and asked to speak with Bucky in private. He reluctantly agreed and the two entered on the balcony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's wrong?” Bucky questioned, his hands tucked into his slacks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't make me deal with this fucknut, okay?” Thor answered aggressively, turning his back away while he tried to calm down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve? He's just high is all.” Bucky tried to reason but Thor wasn’t accepting that as an answer. From the beginning, he had always hated Steve because he simply didn’t vibe with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno if he's stupid or a junkie but he's a loose fuckin' cannon. I don't trust him and I don't want him around me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. I thought he was your best customer.” Bucky sighed. Thor shook his head and told him it was because they were friends. “Can you just do one trip for him?” He then asked, which he knew was already asking a lot from Thor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'll meet him but I won't pick up. I have a limit of how much of that douchebag I can take.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you, motherfucker!” Steve unexpectedly emerged from where he's been eavesdropping. “I'm a douchebag?! Well, whose fuckin’ idea was it that made us all this money?! Who fuckin’ knew T’Challa Udaku?! This douchebag! So go fuck yourself a little!” He yelled at Thor with an angered expression. Thor punched Steve so hard across the face that he went down holding onto his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah! Woah! Thor stop it!” Bucky demanded as he blocked his friend from killing his business partner. Steve let out a colorful string of curses to the man but ultimately, Thor goes back inside the home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Calm down your fucking friend!” Steve growled, holding at his bruised jaw. Buckly helped him up and mumbled out an apology on behalf of Thor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next day, Aunt Em flew to Geneva with $2 million dollars in cash in her carry-on. Which, in the big picture, was a drop in the Swiss bucket because the following month, and over the course of six round-trips, Chantalle and her family smuggled in over $20 million dollars without even a hiccup.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That following week, Steve supposedly met up with Thor to complete the money transfer. Afterwards, Steve was at my home to try something new; The Lemmon 714 was the Holy Grail of Quaaludes, outlawed since the ‘80s and three times as powerful as anything available today. For a Quaalude addict, it was like finding a 1952 Chateau Margaux.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That night I cleared my schedule and rid my body of anything that could fuck with my high. It was celebration time. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Both men popped in the pure white pill, waiting for an effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty-five minutes after taking the pill, Steve looked at his watch to be disappointed that there was no effect. They decided that because it was a fifteen year old pill, that if they got their heart rate up it’ll trigger the effect. Bucky was on the treadmill while Steve was on the cycling bike.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is bullshit, man. My fucking metabolism's pumping and I don't feel shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They're old, maybe they lost their potency.” Bucky commented, more of a statement than a question. Steve shook out more pills, two apiece. As they popped them, you descended the stairs, now very pregnant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you boys doing?” You raised an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction before eyeing Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Working out.” Your husband answered calmly. You gave another look at Bucky and informed him of a caller. Some guy named Jon had to talk with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky thanked you before reaching over to grab the phone. “Jon, hey, what's up?” Bucky greeted, getting off the treadmill as Steve continued pedaling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to you, but not on this phone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, what's-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave the house, call me back from a pay phone, you hear me?” Jon interjected impatiently. He sounded pretty serious and had Bucky in wonder what was going on. He hung up the phone before Bucky could ask anymore questions and he excused himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go. I’ll be back. Take care of YN.” He rushed up the stairs before making a dash to the driveway where he took his Lamborghini out to make it at the nearest pay phone location: The Brookville Country Club. It was just a mile away from his home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He parked his car and exited the vehicle wearing sweats, flip-flops, and a T-shirt. He hustled up a staircase until he got inside where he made a bee-line for the payphone. He picks it up, hearing it ring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James?” Jon asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I'm on a pay phone. What's going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon talked into his cell quickly. “Your buddy Thor’s in jail.” Hearing that made Bucky’s stomach drop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jesus Christ! What did he do?” He spoke with worry. He leaned on the phone for support and ran his hand through his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno yet, they arrested him in a shopping mall in Long Island this morning, I'm finding out. But listen to me. More important than that, the Feds got your phones tapped, I'm pretty sure. Home and office.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve, that piece of shit. I'm gonna kill him! That prick motherfucker!” Bucky cursed loudly, slamming the heel of his hand on the machine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, listen to me. Do me a favor and please do not talk on the phone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be honest with me. Did you try to bribe the fuckin' Feds?” Jon asked curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh-What? No! I-I didn't try to-to bribe any-anybody!” He stuttered badly. Jon wanted him to repeat and he tried to again. “I zay I zint ty zoo bibe azybuzzy!” (I said I didn’t try to bribe anybody!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you fuckin’ high?” The security lawyer asked, livid, from the shrill of his voice. Bucky couldn’t respond. The phone was still to his ear and his eyelids drooped. Even drool spilled from his slackened jaw which he couldn’t control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After fifteen years in storage, the Lemmons had developed a delayed fuse. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bucky’s vision started to get hazy in the reflection of the payphone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It took 90 minutes for the little fuckers to kick in, but once they did—pow! I had skipped the tingle phase and went straight to the drool phase. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The phone became further and further from Bucky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Actually I'd discovered a new phase: the cerebral palsy phase. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bam!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky hits the floor with a thud, crashed out on his back. From the dangling phone, Jon was still on the line and very concerned at what he heard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James? James! Do not get behind the wheel! Just tell me where you're at, I'll send Rocco!” He yelled desperately. He wished Bucky was alright. Bucky lolled his head towards the phone, tried to reach for it; but can't. He laid there for a while, muscles stiffening all over his body, then came up with the idea to crawl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>C'mon!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Bucky began crawling like an infant to the top of the staircase. The Lamborghini is parked at the bottom, twenty steps down. He started to crawl down the stairs before stopping to try again. He just can't seem to figure out how to do it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can roll!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forcing himself over the edge, Bucky descended the steps, one at a time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Then faster. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump. Thump. Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Faster still. He lost control and took all the steps at once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump. Thump. Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump. Thump. Thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He landed with a crash on the asphalt, dragging himself up and into the Lamborghini</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignition on, Bucky sat hunched over, chin resting on the steering wheel. Just then, the car phone rang. With great effort, he pushed the speaker button. “Ello?” (Hello?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James Buchanan Barnes!” You screamed into the phone. “You have a lot of explaining to do! Where are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whazz a marra?” (What’s the matter?) He replied incoherently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's Steve too! He's totally out of control! He's on the other line with the Swiss guy!” Bucky’s face expressed horror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whaa?! No!” (What? No!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can't understand you! Just get home, hurry!” You clicked off and Bucky put the car into motion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They say God protects drunks and babies. I was praying the same held true for drug addicts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took the ride slowly for the one mile until he was back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Somehow I made it alive, not a scratch on me or the car.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where Stebe?!” (Where Steve?) He asked, barging into the home to see you on the couch and eating a snack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kitchen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phone to his ear and at least as stoned as Bucky, Steve stood at the counter. “-zee money, I wazza move izz to Zwizzyland…” (-the money. I wanna move it to Switzerland…)The man said into the phone. With you looking on at them, Bucky staggered towards Steve like a drunk Frankenstein.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ge ozza zone! Ge ozza iz!” (Get off the phone! Get off of it!) He demanded. He was seriously going to get incriminated if the FBI really tapped his phone lines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Waz? Iz zoggin oo Zoolah!” (What? I’m talking to Zola!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even more louder but less understandable, Bucky leaned over the counter to grab Steve. “</span>
  <span>GE OZZA ZONE!</span>
  <span>” (GET OFF THE PHONE!) With all the strength he could muster, Bucky ripped the phone from the wall, throwing it across the floor with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is happening!” You yelled in confusion, looking back and forth at your husband and Steve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wazza fuh is wrong wizzz oooo?! I wuzz awwing to!” (What the fuck is wrong with you? I was warning you!) Bucky grabbed him. “Wazza mazzer?! Wazza yoo razy?!” (What’s the matter? What’re you crazy?) Steve tried to pull away from the hold but Bucky held on with an iron grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Zee vone! He nah zuppose zoo dalk on zee vone!” (The phone! We’re not supposed to talk on the phone!) Bucky continued on, trying hard to be understood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wuzz?!” (What?!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ZE NAH ZUPPOSE ZOO DALK ON ZEE VONE!” (WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ON THE PHONE!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>WUZZ?!” (WHAT?!) Steve asked back with just as much of an angry tone. It led to a screaming match between both immature men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO VONE!” (NO PHONE!)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WUZZ?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck it. Bucky released Steve who crawled into the dining room and started shoving ham into his mouth in an effort to sober up. Just then, a horrible gagging sound is heard. Steve held his throat as he fell backwards, choking, and taking out the entire glass kitchen table with a tremendous </span>
  <em>
    <span>crash!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You rushed back in with a panic to see him on top of the shards and grasping at his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” You weren’t sure what to do. You’ve heard of CPR but you couldn’t perform it on Steve or else you might kill him while trying. “Bucky!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The triumphant Popeye fanfare was briefly heard—Bucky peeked to the TV where Popeye poured a can of spinach down his gullet. Instantly, his chest and arm muscles swell to five times their size. Bucky got the same idea with his stash of coke from the kitchen cabinet. He snarfed up two fat spoonfuls and—like that—his chest swelled and he took a deep breath before dashing to the rescue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s not breathing!” You pointed at Steve, who was turning blue by each passing second. Bucky kneeled, furiously pumping Steve’s chest, and breathing air into his lungs in rhythmic bursts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This stupid sonovabitch! All Steve ever did was fuck me up and now I had to save his life ‘cause I took a CPR class when YN forced me. Just for the record, I want it noted: not for a second did I even think about letting him choke to death, even though it would've saved me an awful lot of headaches.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve still wasn't breathing. Bucky flipped him over and tried the Heimlich until a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>crunch! </span>
  </em>
  <span>was heard, presumably Steve’s ribs. He flipped him back over, but he's almost completely blue while seizing his actions. “He won't come back!” Bucky scowled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't let him die! He has children!” Your voice squeaked with desperation. It would kill you if you couldn’t save Steve after he embarrassingly choked on a ham stick. With one last try, Bucky resorted to his last option and took a massive breath, blowing as hard as he could into Steve’s lungs. His stomach distended like a balloon, then suddenly a chunk of ham projected from his mouth and into Bucky’s face. Steve coughed, vomiting to the side. And as he starts breathing again, Bucky left you to take care of Steve as he passed out on the living room couch where the TV played in the background.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In what Bucky thought he passed out for an hour, only happened to be five minutes. He opened his eyes, vision hazy, but met with the familiar face of Dinah standing over him with two old brookville police officers as you were still tending to Steve in the background. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Bucky questioned groggily to the two men, his head pounding dramatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we need to ask you some questions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After brief questioning whether Bucky drove or not, he was still taken into custody and escorted out of the house by the officers. You had tried to tell them that he wasn’t the one who drove (lying, of course) because you didn’t know what kind of charges would be brought up if he was convicted for driving while high.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky assured you that he’ll be fine and as soon as he walked out, a more realistic view of his car was presented. The Lamborghini is totalled, an absolute wreck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow. Maybe I hadn't made it home okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Flashback</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky drove the Lamborghini like a maniac.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once pulling away from the country club, he had careened into expensive golf carts lined up behind him before pulling forward and driving straight into a tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he sped on the streets, honking at cars and also cursing at the drivers as they did the same thing back. Well, he deserved it more for he was driving on the wrong side of the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And lastly, he busted his car door mirror when he swerved into a mailbox.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was an absolute miracle I wasn't killed, and an even bigger miracle I hadn't killed anyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>End of Flashback</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So evidently enough, the cops ought to find something that indicated Bucky was behind the wheel while heavily intoxicated. Right?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>October ‘95</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They couldn't arrest me, the cops had no proof I'd been behind the wheel. Meanwhile, Thor did a few months in jail for contempt because he wouldn't rat Steve out. They never found his gun though, so they finally had to let him go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just a few hours ago, you were admitted to the hospital while in labor. The moment that your water broke, Bucky had sped down the road in his back-up car; a Porsche.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, when I tell you to push, push as hard as you can.” Doctor Cho explained. You were breathing in and out sporadically, and in a hell of a lot of pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay! Okay!” You yelled, squeezing Bucky’s hand tightly that he was afraid you might break the fingers, however he wanted to stay by your side and help you through the rough patch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on sweetheart, you got it.” Bucky assured you, brushing some hair out of your face that stuck onto your sweaty skin. You glared up at him and cursed for him to shut up. He decided to listen and remain quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, push YN! Push!” You followed as Doctor Cho told you and leaned forward on the bed. Doctor Cho helped assist in making sure that your baby was doing fine and that there would be no complications. You pushed with all your might and soon the pain you had endured was gone. “And done!” Doctor Cho exclaimed as a nearby nurse came forward and swaddled the baby. She left momentarily to clean the baby before coming back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a beautiful one.” The nurse winked as she handed her to you. You take her into your arms and look up at Bucky with awe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a girl.” You whispered softly before uncovering her face with the blanket. “Oh my, she has your eyes.” You observed excitedly at the similar blueness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s heart melted right away. He may have been agnostic but knew that whenever he did hope for a baby girl, some deity would listen to them and give him what he wanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So thank you for that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You cooed at your baby, already calling her by the name you and Bucky decided if it was a girl; Rebecca ‘Becca’ Emily Barnes. The name Rebecca after Bucky’s stillborn sister and Emily after your favorite: Aunt Em.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello there, Rebecca.” He wiggled his finger in front of her and admired her features. He had to wipe away some of the tears that spilled from his eyes but he had no words to explain how he felt to receive a gift so holy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you hold her?” You suggested to Bucky. He looked nervous to do so but it was absolutely normal as a first-time father. You began to pass her gently, giving your husband key points on how to hold his daughter safely in his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he got the hang of it, he swayed with her around the room as you watched from a distance. It made you overjoyed that the moment finally came where you and Bucky finally got to hold your daughter in your arms; those nine months didn’t come that fast enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m your daddy. Your mommy’s resting in bed.” Bucky whispered. Becca was staring widely at him, nestled in her blankets. He swore that she had just smiled at him similarly to how you smile at him and it made his heart swell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN.” Bucky called to you, turning to face you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky had been looking down at his daughter once again. “She’s perfect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinah and you had been sitting and conversing about your newborn when Bucky and Jon were in his office, talking about whatever it was they’re talking about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're a lucky guy, James. Legally I've never seen anyone slip a noose the way you do. Christ, you're lucky to be alive much less not in jail.” Jon said, laughing to himself like the situation was funny but just outlandish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't believe in luck.” He firmly replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he rested on the back of his chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon only scoffed at the man. “That's what all lucky people say. It's time, James. Let me make a deal with the SEC. Before your luck runs out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of terms?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon thought for a moment but took a guess from what he’s witnessed at Stratton Oakmont. “You plead guilty to a handful of securities violations—stock manipulation, high pressure sales tactics, ticky-tack shit like that. You pay a few million dollars in fines and in exchange the SEC fucks off for all time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Stratton?” Bucky asked with curiosity before he made his decision. “What happens there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“You'd have to walk away. Let Steve take over.” </span><em><span>Ouch!</span></em> <em><span>That hurts. </span></em><span>“Now the FBI's a different animal. They can still pursue you for criminal wrongdoing but with you on the sidelines, my guess is your best friend Agent will be left standing around with a dick in their hand.” Bucky digested that.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You beat them, James. You won. Sail into the sunset with your wife and kid while you can,” He tried to convince him. “God knows you'll never have to work again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>May ‘96</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brokers of Stratton Oakmont roared as Bucky took center stage of the office. He grabbed at the microphone and let everyone settle into silence before speaking. “I'm sure many of you have been hearing rumors lately, about me, about the future of this firm, and that's what I'd like to talk to you about today,” He smiled at the crowd looking at him. Over the years he had gotten to know them during the success of the firm. “Almost seven years ago when I started Stratton with Steve Rogers, I knew the day would eventually come when I'd be moving on. It's truly with a heavy heart that I tell you that day is here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room erupted into a chorus of ‘No!’ and ‘Don’t go!’ as Bucky momentarily looked over to Jon and Steve. He held up a hand for silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for that and for your years of incredible loyalty and admiration. The point is though, that under Steve’s leadership, along with Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner moving into key management positions, this place is gonna be better than ever!” A smattering of applause scattered the room. James noticed a few brokers gravely shaking their heads. He could tell they all had mixed opinions but ultimately, it came down to one thing: they’ll miss him because he was their hero and leader.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the fact that I'm gone won't stop me from giving Steve advice, not that he needs any—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve jumped in, grabbing the mic. “Why would anyone in their right mind not follow JB's advice?” He looked petrified; he's used to being an offensive tackle, not the quarterback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Receiving the mic back, Bucky continued where we left off. “Before I go, there's something I want to remind you all, and that's this—Stratton Oakmont is bigger than any one person, even me. Especially me. You guys are Stratton, each and every one of you, and that is why it's sure to remain the best brokerage firm in the fucking world!” He announced himself selflessly, proud of everyone under his firm. Thunderous applause spreads through the boardroom, all 300 brokers are on their feet. He continued on his streak. “See, the very idea of Stratton is that when you come here and step into this bullpen for the first time, you start your life anew. You have a place here and no one can take that away from you! Stratton Oakmont is America! Give me your tired and poor! The very moment you walk through that door and pledge your loyalty to this firm, you become part of a family, you become a Strattonite! It doesn't matter who you are, it doesn't matter where you're from!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James surveyed the young faces—they worshipped him. In the crowd he found Hope. “Everybody here knows Hope Van Dyne, right?” Hoots and hollers indicated they did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In case any of you weren't aware of it, Hope was one of Stratton's first brokers, one of the original twenty. Now when most of you met Hope, you met her the way she is today—a beautiful woman who drives a brand new Mercedes, a woman who lives in the finest condo complex in Manhattan. A woman who wears $3,000 dollar Armani suits, who spends her winters in the Bahamas and her summers in the Hamptons!” Hope waved at the crowd as people clapped wildly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But that's not the Hope I met. The Hope I met was broke; Three months behind on her rent with a $40,000 dollar school loan to pay off! She came to me for a job and when I hired her she asked for a $5,000 dollar advance so she could pay some of the loan. And what did I do, Hope?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He outstretched his ear to her for an answer. Hope looked at him, yelling the answer without shame. “You wrote me a check for $25,000 dollars!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded and pointed at the crowd. “That’s because I believe in you, like I believe in each and every one of you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, James!” She yelled, raising her fist that showed off her expensive watch. As the brokers went crazy, Bucky stood basking in the adoration. He looked at Steve, turned back to the crowd, and at their faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A change came over him. He stood there, thinking. An eternity, then let out what they believed to be his final statement. “You know for years I've been telling you guys not to take no for an answer, to keep pushing, to not hang up the phone till you get what you want. This deal I'm about to sign, barring me from the securities industry, barring me from Stratton, my home... What the fuck is that? I'll tell you what it is, it's me being a hypocrite. It's me taking no for an answer, it's them selling me, not the other way around! Fuck it, I'm not leaving!” Bucky smiled, thrusting his fist into the air. “THE SHOW GOES ON!” The place went absolutely fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And as Steve and Jon traded surprised looks, someone blasted techno music and the crowd celebrated the good news.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They really didn’t think they could get rid of me that easily, right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>June ‘96 - Strike #3: Drugs</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lot went wrong after Bucky refused to step down from the company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, he was sent a flood of subpoenas and had to meet up with SEC attorneys with Jon. Not only him but other Stratton brokers were deposed: Sam, Natasha, Bruce, and Scott. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But not a single Strattonite cracked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, T’Challa Udaku began unloading his shares from the company. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even though I owned 85% of T’Challa-Cocksucker-Udaku-fucking-Vibranium, the shares were in his fucking name. Motherfucker knew I was in trouble with the Feds and was trying to take advantage.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So he had the employees sell and drive the prices down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if more bad things happened, Aunt Em had died. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking heart attack. Boom-snap, she was gone. Shuffled off her mortal coil and $20 million dollars in a Swiss bank account. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though, Bucky was able to retain the account after she sighed him off as her successor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>But the one that really fucked him over was </span><em><span>way</span></em> <em><span>worse</span></em><span> than the time he took Lemmons to celebrate or ludes for his plane trip to Switzerland. He had been with Steve when the two made an </span><em><span>irrational </span></em><span>decision. And it just so happened that out of all people, Steve’s wife Sharon Rogers, had snitched.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty baby.” Buckly chuckled as the model, Dot Lapaglia, was taking his dick well in her mouth while Steve was fucking her from behind. Both men had been at a bar when they met the hottest model they’ve seen and got to seduce her into sex with them. They just had to wave cash, drugs, and their toned body to convince her to join in on the wild threesome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t she really good!” Steve chuckled over Dot’s moaning. Steve slapped her ass roughly, letting it jiggle before grasping it roughly in his large hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The best, Steve.” Bucky partially lied. He was in fact enjoying it but it didn’t feel as good as your mouth. But with all the drugs and alcohol in his system, he can’t even think properly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Steve had his release, the two had traded places, having their fun with Dot until eventually retiring the hotel room they booked at. Then by the morning time did Sharon find out everything and she wasn’t going to hold it back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ring! Ring!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dinah! Could you get that for me?” You asked sweetly to your housekeeper. Dinah nodded as you had Rebecca cradled in your arm with a bottle of milk in her mouth. She handed you the phone and you took it, bringing it up to your ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Barnes residence. This is YN Barnes. Who am I speaking with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” A female voice came on. “My name’s Sharon Rogers. My husband is Steve and he works with your husband.” You were surprised to hear Sharon. You’ve met her a few times—once at Bucky’s beach home and at your wedding—you quickly took a seat on the couch to continue your conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sharon! Hey, it’s nice to talk to you. How are-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN. I don’t want to be the one to tell you this but I think we need to talk in private about our husbands. Meet me at Central Park at 1 p.m. today.” You peeked over to the clock nearby. She wanted to meet you in half an hour?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh okay. I’ll-” Interrupting you again, you heard the phone click off. You suddenly felt your heart beat increase. What did Sharon mean when she said she wanted to talk about both your husbands? And why did she sound so passive aggressive?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking down to see Rebecca finally asleep, you went to put her in her nursery before getting changed to meet Sharon. You made sure to tell Bucky that you were going out for shopping and he kissed you on the lips, without you knowing where his mouth was from last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You drove up to the park with nervousness and heard a voice call out to you as soon as you walked around the area. “YN!” You noticed the blonde and walked up to her as she began to walk away in the other direction. You had to jog just to catch up with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sharon! Sharon, wait.” You called, finally meeting her pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even bother to greet you, only remaining aggressive just like the conversation earlier. “I just want you to know that I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at my husband and it’s why my mood is pissed off.” The two of you made your way to a coffee shop and she took a two-seater by the windows that overlooked the city streets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where Steve and Bucky were last night?” She asked you, wanting a simple response and nothing more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The bar.” She nodded. It was like you were being tested on your husband’s whereabouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Drinking, right?” You nodded slowly, not sure where she was going with this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She then began to explain about her morning when Steve had come home around 3 a.m., high out of his fucking mind. Sharon had woken up from bed and had to calm him down in the living room, far away from where her kids were sleeping so he couldn’t wake them up and embarrass himself. “I asked Steve why he came late, why he was using drugs, and what he did,” She played with her wedding ring, sliding it completely off before placing it on the table. “And he told me everything. Perks of being on drugs, I guess.” She mumbled bitterly, scratching at her forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You were starting to get more nervous now to hear the truth. If Steve did something, Bucky was always there to follow too like a copycat. “What did they do, Shar?” You asked, somewhat impatiently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said he and James met a nice model, some girl named Dot, and convinced her to have a threesome with them for $100,000 dollars,” You felt your entire world crashing down on you, almost wincing at her words like she stabbed you with a hot knife that she then twisted in your gut. “They booked a night and he told me all the vivid details of how the fuckin’ porno went. Bucky included.” You looked away from Sharon at the window, tears spilling from your eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could I be so stupid?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honey, I know you’re sad but talk to Bucky. He’s a good man, isn’t he?” Sharon asked you, unaware that you’re living a life that’s just like hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I gave him so many chances already that I don’t think I have any left.” Your own wedding ring felt heavy on your hand as you slid out from the table and left, leaving Sharon to be alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You found solace in walking home and thought back on all the memories of you and Bucky together. The dates he took you on, the vacations and places you traveled to, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the sex</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was good in the beginning but if you were honest with yourself, the red flags were right in front of your blind self, waving dangerously for your attention, but you had ignored them all for some many years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Entering the home, Bucky was the first to greet you after coming up from the gym room downstairs. He was all sweaty in his gym outfit with a white towel wrapped around his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want a divorce.” You said without a stutter in your words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky dropped his water bottle at those four unexpected words and was about to ask what was going on until he saw you attempting to take off your ring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Princess! Baby, baby.” He quickly rushed over to you and stopped you from removing the ring fully. The same ring that you haven’t taken off since your wedding day. “Why?” He asked in a desperate confusion for answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” You went hysterical, throwing your hands around. “Why? Tell me, how good did it feel to have your pathetic cock in some model’s cunt?” You pushed away from Bucky and he sighed, rubbing his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve Rogers fucked me over</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve told you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You begin to calm yourself. For some reason you couldn’t find yourself to be mad because what did you expect? It was the same situation but just a different time. You were growing tired from a cycle of fighting because no matter what, Bucky won’t ever find it in himself to change. “No. Sharon did and I bet she’ll divorce Steve too. She’s already removed the ring to prove it.” Bucky’s hands went behind his head as he stressed out about the situation. He knew he shouldn’t have done it—which he always thought—but he was feeling closed in with what the FBI was figuring out and soon enough they’ll get him, his firm, and his money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YN… please don’t leave. Please.” He begged. If he had to go on his knees, he would. “I love you. You know how I am though.” He tried to use it as an excuse to get you to understand. For a man so smart, he was fucking stupid to think you would fall shallow to his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You walked up to him, wanting so badly to hit and kick him but you had a strong will not to. “Do I? Because I don’t think I do.” Your voice was low, never raising while you berated him. “I married an egotistical, money-hungry, drug and sex addict man.” Your words stung more than ever before because it was true. Not to mention that the fact you were more sad with tears falling down your face than angry and yelling at him had felt like a stab to his chest, twisting in his place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you yelling at me? Hitting me?” Bucky asked with nosiness, also letting the tears fall from his face. You scoffed at him. He had no need of crying because he could have everything he ever wanted, including a new wife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’ve changed, Bucky. Unlike you,” Your voice cracked. You moved away from Bucky to head upstairs. “I’m going to pack my things and take Rebecca with me-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO! Please YN! One more chance!” He begged once more, falling onto his knees out of desperation in front of you. “I can change. I’ll give up the company in a heartbeat if it means you and Rebecca will stay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You had to look away from him. He had the audacity to say that? “Then why didn’t you? Jon gave you a chance to do so; to get you off with an easy punishment by the SEC but you couldn’t because you’re more involved with the company than with your own family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was speechless. He knew how right you were and each point struck him like a winding kick to the balls. He had already played on his three strikes which took him out of the game. You gave him one last faltered look before heading up the stairs and on sight, Dinah saw how Bucky looked defeated for once in his glamorous life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought losing Stratton Oakmont was bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Losing you and Rebecca was fucking worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinah cautiously made her way to Bucky, a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Mr. Barnes? I know you might not want to hear this but if you love her, fight for her.” Bucky’s head hung low, tears pooling on the ground in front of him as he felt his heart breaking by each second he was on the floor. “Also, I might be fired for saying this but I don’t really like you yet I see how much she loves you like you love her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do love her,” He sniffled, wiping his nose with his wrist. However, Dinah handed him a small napkin to use instead. “Thank you.” He showed appreciation to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem, Mr. Barnes. I suggest that if you are serious about giving up the company in a heartbeat, you might as well do it for the sake of YN and your daughter.” And just liked that, she helped him get back up on his two feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” He whispered again. He tried to stand up straight and push away the vulnerable state he was put in. “I might need to pay you extra if it’ll help me get my head straight.” He joked, attempting a smile to cover his real sadness through his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sound bad, Mr. Barnes but I’ll have to deny the offer. Just keep off the drugs, will you? My brother knows this place that helps with rehabilitation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to look into it.” With that, Dinah nodded and went on her way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You want a sign from God, well after all this I finally got the message. I had to make some fucking changes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s just one problem.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>June ‘97</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky had the great idea of shooting a commercial intended for the late-night local viewers. The defining idea is that while the commercial may be amateurish, Bucky isn't; he's an excellent salesman even if the ad is cut-rate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was in front of his estate, addressing the camera—viewers hopefully—about financial strategies. After adjusting his tie for what seemed to be the fifth time, he put on a proper manner and began. “Do you dream of being financially independent but struggle every month just to pay your bills? Would you like to own a home like this one someday but can barely afford to pay your rent?” He showed off his mansion in the background, the camera zooming in to it. “My name is James Barnes and there's no secret to wealth creation. No matter who you are, where you came from, you too can become financially independent in just a matter of months. All you need is a strategy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The first action you have to take is to decide to be wealthy. When I was 24 years old, I made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>decision</span>
  </em>
  <span> not to just survive but to </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I started my own stock brokerage firm, developing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>system of selling</span>
  </em>
  <span> that within a year made me a multi-millionaire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From these humble middle-class beginnings, I now live here...with my beautiful wife and kid...living the lifestyle of our dreams…” In front of the house, you were with Rebecca in your arms, sucking from a pink baby bottle. You smiled at the camera with Bucky at your side, an arm wrapping around your hip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I'm passing along the secrets to my success in my 90-minute free seminar, “James Barnes’ Straight Line Persuasion.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first testimonial: An older man held up a framed check and pointed at it while the camera began to roll. “I have here in my hand, framed, is a check for $27,437. 63 dollars that I netted from one deal after attending James Barnes’, um, Straight Line Persuasion seminar.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, Bucky was on the Princess yacht with you in a bikini for show. “There's nobody stopping you from making millions. There is nobody holding you back from financial freedom. Don't just sit at home or the life of your dreams will sail right past you. No pun intended.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second testimonial: A couple was filmed in their living room. The husband spoke. “Thanks to the Straight Line System, we could afford this home and now we're living the lives of our dreams.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A helicopter descended on the helipad and Bucky jumped out, speaking loudly so he could still be heard over the loud whirring noises. “I've changed all these people's lives and I can change yours, too! So come to my seminar! The life of your dreams is only a decision away-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he got onto the ground, Bucky recognized the FBI agents surrounding him and tried to escape before being tackled by one of them. The camera had been knocked off the stand, still recording him getting cuffed and forced back up onto his feet where he was led into a police car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was all coming to an end.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>September ‘97</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky, in cuffs, looked none-too-pleased. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This one takes the cake. It was Bruce, he'd been busted down in Miami, and guess who the fuck with?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arnim Zola! What were the odds? There had to be ten thousand Swiss bankers in Geneva and I choose the one dumb enough to get himself arrested on U.S. soil. Even more ironic was he'd gotten himself indicted on charges that had nothing to fucking do with me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Something about laundering drug money through offshore boat racing and a guy named Rocky Aoki, the founder of Benihana. Beni-fucking-hana! Why would God be so cruel as to choose a chain of fucking Hibachi Restaurants to bring me down?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Long story short was Arnim ratted me out, but not before he ratted out Chantalle, who it turns out he'd been fucking every time she went to Switzerland!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a federal court in Queens, Bucky’s criminal attorney, Pepper Potts, was next to Bucky, before judge Maria Hill, being arraigned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was indicted for money laundering, securities fraud, and an endless list of other shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leafing through the subpoenas, Maria finally spoke out to the courtroom. “One count engaging in conspiracy to commit securities fraud. Two counts securities fraud. One count engaging in conspiracy to commit money laundering. Twenty-one counts money laundering. One count obstruction of justice,” She gave a withering glare at him. “Bail is set at ten million dollars.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bang!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The gavel settled the final deal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky walked out of the federal court lobby with Pepper, who flipped through the subpoena. “This is...well, it's not good. It's pretty bad actually. How much money do you have, James?” She inquired, biting her red lips-stained lips in nervousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can make bail.” He bluntly answered, jamming his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't mean the ten million, I mean for legal fees. ‘Cause if you want to fight this thing, it's gonna be expensive. Like, sell-everything-you-own-expensive.” She pointed out, knowing that Bucky would refute bail and fight to overturn it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back at his home but out on the pool deck, Bucky smiled as he saw Rebecca playing with the nanny and Alpine the cat. Bucky watched them, sitting by his pool, drinking an O'Douls, and weighing his options when suddenly Steve popped into the yard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, everybody! How're the happiest people in Long Island? Hi, Alpine!” He waved to everyone before he sat beside Bucky on one of the lawn chairs. “Hate that fuckin’ cat.” He grumbled, mood changing dramatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I got him for the family. He’s doing his best.” Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of the non-alcoholic beer. He went to offer one but Steve declined with a soft shake of his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing, brother? How was the food in jail?” Steve wondered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky let out a huff. “Lobster Newburg sucked. They gave me some jewelry though.” He went to show it off, lifting up the pant leg to display the electronic bracelet around the ankle. Steve gave a thin-lipped smile at it, probably imagining if he was in that situation and how he’d survive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wonder if they got one in my size. Fuckin' Bruce, that nerd-Hulk hump. Tell you one thing: I'm never eating at Benihana's ever again,” Then as Steve looked around the pool deck, he realized he had no idea where you were. “Where’s YN?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky pointed at the home. “Inside. She’s what keeps me going,” Bucky admittedly flatly. It was just that he was depressed did he sound that way. “We’re trying for another kid.” He mentioned mindlessly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve picked up on the voice, slightly concerned. “So what’s going on? You’re depressed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky let out a dry laugh even though nothing funny was said. It was true that over the past few months he wasn’t doing so hot. “What can I say? Had to mortgage the home to make bail. Probably gonna have to sell it to pay my lawyers. If we fight this thing.” Steve weighed on that, rubbing at his chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Feds say anything about coming after the rest of us?” Bucky thought for a moment before shaking his head, taking a swig from his bottle. “You know, we're all behind you. Everyone at the office,” To make a point of it, Steve removed an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Bucky, who opened it to see a stack of cash inside. “We bought back your mortgage. All the founding partners threw in a million apiece. Figured none of us would have it if it weren't for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s profoundly touched as Steve squeezed his shoulder before getting up. A real moment of friendship was shared between the two of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gotta fight this thing, baby.” He whispered assuringly, giving one last smile to Bucky before leaving the home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like I said, loyalty meant a lot to me. Without your friends and family standing behind you, you're fucked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky sat back in his chair with Pepper across from FBI Agent Alex Mahone, U.S. Attorney John Abruzzi, and Assistant U.S. Attorney Don Self in a conference room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abruzzi was the first to speak, hands intertwined with one another on the wooden table in front of him as he looked at Bucky. “There's a term we have around here, we don't like to use it often, only when circumstances dictate. It's called a ‘Grenada.’ Inspired by our government's invasion in 1983 of the island nation of only 90,000 people, basically it stands for any case we get which is pretty much unlose-able. We could show up late and drunk to court, fuck up left-right-and-center and still we'd win. Mr. Barnes, you, sir, are a ‘Grenada’.” After finishing his story, Bucky gave a snort and was about to make a comment before being cut off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're looking at real prison time.” Self then spoke up after, his voice serious and to the point as he shot down Bucky’s moment of fun. “Money laundering gets you as much as 20 years. Case couldn't be stronger if we'd have caught you with your cash in your mattress.” Abruzzi pushed a box full of evidence across the table. Bucky eyeballed Mahone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Read the discovery.” Abruzzi commanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky scoffed. “That your life's work in the box?” He folded his arms together, briefly looking at his watch and letting out a yawn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“James, you rotting in jail till your kids are outta college isn't our ambition here. You weren't the only one involved in all this. We think those folks deserve their day in court too.” Mahone tried to reason. Bucky’s lips pursed into a thin-lipped smile. He really wanted to kill Mahone, the agent who caught him and led the investigation on looking into Stratton Oakmont’s dirty business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… What? You’re basically telling me here that you want me to rat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. For your cooperation. A comprehensive list of all co-conspirators spanning the last five years and you agree to wear a wire-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mahone leaned forward in his seat, cutting the bullshit from Abruzzi’s attempt to downplay the situation. “Yes. Yes we want you to rat.” He grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back home, you were getting undressed from a party, already taking off the heavy sets of jewelry worn on your body given as a gift from your husband when he had earned the money illegally. Bucky was with you, sitting on the edge of the king-sized mattress and admiring how you looked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-at the end of the day all they really want is for me to cooperate. That's it. See, apparently, I know so much about what's going on in the stock market that I could save the government years of heartache. But it gets even better…” He paused for a moment, hoping to see your reaction as you learn what he had to say about serving his sentence. “You see, if I cooperate I'll only have to serve four short years and any fine I'd have to pay wouldn't be due till after I serve my sentence. We'll still have plenty of money left over. The only thing that I was kind of upset about was the fact that I might have to give them information about my friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Putting away the pearl earrings in their respective case and placing it into your drawer, you turned to face Bucky, expressionless but then casting a forced smile. In case Bucky hasn’t noticed it, the tension between you both hasn’t resolved all that well. “That’s great, babe. It sucks, I know but like you said, ‘There's no friends on Wall Street’.” You directly quoted him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But there's a silver lining to that too... It turns out that all of ‘em are probably gonna cooperate too. So in the end, that won't really be a factor.” He believed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that's really good news, babe. I'm really happy for you.” You partially lied. He took your wrist and pulled you into his body, standing up so your face was near his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it's good for both of us, YN.” Suddenly he pulled you in for a passionate kiss and you reacted back by kissing him too. Your fingers fluttered all over his face and beard as you gave into his touches. It’s been almost a year since the air between you two changed, almost cautiously. Bucky’s been reserved and has followed Dinah’s advice to rehabilitate which did him some good in redeeming the qualities of a good man yet again. Though, he was still working just as hard to mend the relationship with you again but it would take time for it to fully go back to what it relatively was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, princess. I love you so much. I've loved you from the first time I saw you.” A part of your mind flipped like a switch at his words. With skepticism, you were starting to second-guess yourself and this seemed like the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do? You sure?” You asked hesitantly. He nodded vigorously and kissed your face before leading you to sit on his lap. He was lucky that you wore a dress as it gave easy access to slip his hard cock into you. You saw his actions, watching his thick fingers unzip his pants, and making you cockwarm him while he hugged your body, face buried in your chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Softly rubbing at his head, Bucky spoke with a whimper and tears leaving his eyes. He hated being vulnerable but at this moment, he was glad that it was with you. “I want to restart with you. I’ll give you a baby like I promised but I want to stay like this.” You obliged, not moving a muscle to satisfy his needs. It had been a few long months since the two of you craved each other’s touch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you slept like that with his member buried deep into your cunt, feeling a sense of shame wash over you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back again on another day with Potts, Mahone, Abruzzi, and Self in the US Attorney’s office, Self read out loud the Cooperation Agreement in a monotone voice. “Paragraph 2. The defendant shall provide information regarding all criminal activities of the defendant and others from June 1st, 1990, onwards. Paragraph 3. The defendant shall participate in undercover activities pursuant to the instructions of the FBI, including wearing a recording device, also known as a ‘wire’-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky drowned out the noise, feeling miserable. He stopped Don. “Lemme just sign the fuckin’ thing.” He signed the fucking thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For the next six hours, I came up with a list. Friends, enemies, business associates, anybody who'd ever known me or taken so much as a stock tip. The first name on the list was Steve’s.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>March ‘98</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After months of legal wrangling, I was finally sentenced to prison. I gave up everyone, and in return got three years in some hellhole in Nevada I'd never even heard of. Like Mad Max'd said, ’the chickens'd come home to roost.’ Whatever the fuck that means.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sentencing day. You and Bucky’s mother had tears coming from your faces while Rebecca was sitting with you on the bench, unaware of what’s going on except for her toy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope your Honor would agree that Mr. Barnes has distinguished himself in terms of his cooperation in this white collar fraud. Mr. Barnes has helped the government win convictions of over two dozen serious offenders and helped them recover millions of dollars to be made available for restitution to the victims.” Pepper announced as she stood from the table in front of the judge. Bucky tried to not look back at you and his mother’s face of disappointment. So instead, he subtly fiddled with the thread of his suit he had been picking at, pitying himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The sentence of the court shall be 48 months in Federal Prison. Please remand the defendant.” Judge Stephen Strange told the guards who listened and led Bucky away, but not without putting handcuffs on him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does it make me more bad to say I wanted to see the face of Steve as he got caught? Steve sat in his office when a small army of FBI agents, led by Agent Mahone, arrested half the office: Scott, Natasha, Hope, etc… Steve had it coming to him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm not ashamed to admit, when I arrived at prison, I was absolutely terrified…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I needn't have been.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For a brief, fleeting moment, I'd forgotten I was rich and lived in America.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>May ‘00</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky had been out of prison after serving almost years; getting off two months earlier for good behavior. Occasionally you visited him as part of conjugal visits and even then, it didn’t stop Bucky from loving you despite being behind a large glass window. Now it was four months after his release did he try everything to make it up to you and his daughter—physically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love it here. It’s very nice.” You kissed Bucky on the lips. He kissed you back while Rebecca clapped her hands, capturing both your attention again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dadda!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Becca!” He replied with just as much enthusiasm. He picked her up from the couch and smothered kisses, making her giggle when the beard scratched her smooth face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kept laughing hard until you offered to put her into bed in which she got sleepy all of a sudden. Bucky said that it was okay and did it himself, wanting to take more responsibility now that he was a prominent father figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be in our room.” You informed as he left to walk in the other direction of Rebecca’s temporary room. Patiently waiting, Bucky came inside and closed the door to see you sitting in the middle of the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong, sweetheart?” He asked. You shook your head but the playful bite at your lip sent a whole different message to him. One straight to his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, actually… before your seminar why don’t we make another baby Barnes?” Bucky liked the sound of that and the two of you began to strip of all clothing and get underneath the covers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I missed this,” He whispered, nuzzling his face into your neck before pushing himself inside. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.” You moaned, feeling the stretch of Bucky’s cock as he entered your tight walls. He thrusted in slowly before you begged him to pick up the pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept thrusting with the goal in mind to impregnate you. You had already done it once, what’s not to say it’ll happen again and this time, actually not get interfered by anything? Bucky was sober for years and planned on dedicating the rest of his life to be with you and Rebecca (as well as the future kids). He wanted to make it up to you for all the years he had constantly fucked up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That moment, to him, was a victory to earn another chance—a clean slate—by you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ladies and gentlemen of Auckland, New Zealand, please join me in welcoming him to the stage... The Wolf of Wall Street himself, Mr. James Barnes!” Huge rallying applause welcomed Bucky as he took to the stage, waving. It was like he was back at Stratton Oakmont but for a good reason: to inform and help people instead of the other way around. After spending twenty-two months in federal prison and paying $100,000,000 in fines, he was back to a life he had long forgotten but dearly missed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the applause finally died down... Bucky doesn't speak out like he usually would at a crowd this big. Instead he walked down to the front row of his audience, studying their faces. He picked one, taking a pen from his coat and offering it to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sell me this pen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man took the object and scanned it. “Well, it's a good pen, it's a ballpoint-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky took the pen back with a smile and handed it to the next person. “Sell me this pen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the next person tries, the audience is transfixed, desperate for Bucky’s knowledge, desperate to be molded—to be rich…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sell me this pen...Sell me this pen... Sell me this pen...Sell me this pen…” But not one could sell him a pen except a bright young boy who gave into the attempt with eyes so bright as he smoothly convinced Bucky. Bucky could see a younger version of himself in him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you were to ask me, ‘Would you go back to being rich?’ I would give a smile and an answer. ‘No. Because I have a family, a wife. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t choose who you fall in love with, right? And once you do fall in love—that obsessive sort of love, that all-consuming love, where two people can’t stand to be apart from each other for even a moment—how are you supposed to let a love like that pass you by?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So to finally answer the burning question everyone’s been wanting to hear, it’s three. It took three fuck-ups until Bucky realized he need to change for the better. And not once did he regret it (even after losing basically everything) because as a smart woman once said, ‘if you love her, fight for her.’ which was exactly what he did for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that’s how he won you back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was his biggest achievement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The End</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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